Love Me, for Eternity
by TruexTwinFlames
Summary: Trapped within the tomb after an encounter with an enemy vampire - Damon and Elena are desperate. Hunger evident in multiple ways, Damon, the immortal, overwhelmed by bloodlust; Elena, the alluring mortal, set out to resist urges beyond their control...
1. The Antidote

**A/N: Well hi there guys. ;D Jackie (a.k.a xJaackie) here, & her amazingly talented friend Stephanie. :B Baically, this is yet again, another Delena fanfiction (can you guys really get enough?:P) and once again it's a joint. Elena is again written by me and Damon is by Stephanie. (: Although, we each swap and share ideas, cos' we iz cool like that. ^_^ Any who, hope you enjoy reading this, because this has been our life for so long. :L Peace out and make sure to subscribe and review!******

**Love Me, for Eternity.**

**Chapter 1: The Antidote.**

Elena was leant at an acute angle. Left side against the rough surface of the tomb wall; her arms wrapped neatly around her front with wide eyes, staring at the moonlight filtering through into the cave from the outside surroundings. She exhaled softly, her humming bird heart, consistent at a steady beat as Elena began contemplating how exactly she could spend her time here. It was strange. Not just that Elena was trapped in the tomb with Damon, but more as to why exactly she was trapped there in the first place; Damon had come to her rescue when she was sure she was experiencing her last minutes on earth. She still didn't know exactly who the male vampire that'd tried to kill her was working with, but she had a pretty damn good idea.

However, all of that seemed irrelevant now - Elena was here, with Damon for the uncertain future, whatever that held. Elena swallowed hard and risked a glance Damon's way. She frowned and then found herself speaking to him.

"Say something... Just anything, just say something," she whispered, almost desperately, she couldn't stand the silence between them.

It was exceptionally dark amidst captivity; the only light they had was from the feeble glow of the moon, which sat rightfully against a star-specked, black sky. The tomb was deserted, apart from the unwilling presence of Damon and Elena. It was dreadfully quiet too, for neither seemed to be able to speak. Although he would not admit it, the silence was killing Damon, but breaking it seemed far from possible. What was there to resound? They were trapped and isolated from the rest of the world with no means of escape - unless an admirably powerful witch happened to cross this path – so what was there to talk about?

Damon was lounged upon the bone-strewn floor with his back against a cold, hard, stone wall, his face buried despairingly in the warm palms of his hands. His eyes were closed, blocking out the intimidating darkness that ensnared them and his breathing was ragged and angry. This god damn tomb was the last place he wanted to be, but Elena being bound with him made it much less demoralizing than it should've been. It was like she held a light he needed but could not possess, like she was the last remaining spark of hope that he had left in himself. There was nothing left for them to do but wait – wait for someone, something to get them out of this prison.

Elena's despondent whispers seemed to awaken him and, distracted, he looked up, and a critical frown knotted his brows together. Tiredly, he breathed out a sigh and shook his head forlornly, his eyes lingering on her for a moment.

"What am I supposed to say, Elena?" he murmured weakly, keeping the raging outbursts that tickled his lips at bay, despite it proving relatively difficult. He balanced his elbows atop his knees and stared solemnly at the black wall opposite, finally managing to pull his eyes away from the human girl he was trapped with.

He didn't even understand why she was stuck here. She just … was.

The rational, incredibly stubborn side of Elena was cursing herself inwardly for the sudden outburst of words she'd almost fired at Damon. But, in a way, she always had been and always would be vulnerable in regards to Damon and anything involving him. And she hated that. And although she was eternally grateful for Damon's heroic actions in saving her life; she couldn't rid the heavy cloud of guilt that seemed to hangover her like a dull rain cloud hovering over a warm, bright meadow. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for forcing his involvement and that she would find a way to get the both of them out; but what would be the point? Her eyes were still fixed upon Damon's body as a light frown captured her lips, due to the weak tone his words had been delivered in. She inhaled a sharp breath before looking down, sinking further back into the wall.

For several minutes then, Elena attempted to reply to him, but no sound seemed to escape her lips. Finally, though, Elena forced herself to respond to him.

"I don't know? Shout at me; tell me how stupid I am for nearly getting myself killed and then trapping you in this tomb with me? Just say anything, I can't stand this..." Elena shot her eyes to him once again, turning on her side as she did so "This silence! So please, just, talk to me."

And Elena, despite holding disbelief that the day she began begging not only for Damon's company, but for the common tone of disdain that she'd grown so used to whenever he spoke… that seemed to be exactly what the human was doing. She felt weak, utterly vulnerable and had no idea what to do.

Damon breathed a half-hearted laugh. Nobody in their right mind would actually tell Damon to get angry at them, for his rage was never a gracious sight. What was it with Elena? Was she not scared of him? Any sane person would be if they had considerable knowledge on his dark and bloody past. He was a killer, admittedly, and felt no remorse for any of his previous doings. He was who he was and nobody was ever going to change that. At least, they wouldn't change it dramatically. He liked the fact that he was feared and he enjoyed the idea of being intimidating to anybody he associated with. But he didn't seem to have that effect on Elena; at least not immediately. She remained friendly – it was almost as if she cared …

"You know you were an idiot," said Damon quietly, "You almost got yourself killed. But I can't get pissed with you. It doesn't matter now, you're safe. All that matters."

Drunk with unneeded fatigue, Damon leant his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He could see where Elena was coming from – the silence was somewhat tedious. But, as already established, words were ungraspable. So, reluctantly, Damon opened his eyes and addressed Elena, his shadowed eyes focused on her soft olive skin. He tried to catch her eye, and gestured for her to sit beside him. If they could not come up with an escape plan or conjure up small talk, there was always clarification.

"What exactly happened before I got to you, Elena?" he asked curiously, the dark eyes beneath his shockingly dark, messy hair narrowed contemplatively. He wanted the whole story. It may be of some assistance to them.

Call her an idiot, and call her crazy, but right now, Elena craved Damon Salvatore's company. It was fairly absurd, for Elena knew Damon, perhaps more than anyone else ever had or ever could; there was just something about him, that although he drove her to the brink of insanity more times than not - Elena had to admit that when Damon cared for something or someone, the chance of any harm coming to the object of Damon's affections would be next to nothing. And whether it was due to the fact that Elena was indeed the spitting image of Damon's vampire ex, Katherine, or whether it was merely due to the fact that Elena had made an effort to try to understand him and chip at his inner walls; Elena knew Damon would never, under any circumstances allow any impairment to reach her. He'd rather die.

She'd be lying if she said she didn't like the way he looked at her sometimes; the shudders were like no other. Thankfully, Damon's words broke her daze and she shot her eyes his way. The brunette sighed, 'same old Damon', her mind chimed. Upon noticing his hand gesture, Elena pulled her tired body up from the ground and slid into the space beside his crouched figure.

"He was... In his late twenties to early thirties I think. And he had an accent... Like, a Mississippi accent," Elena reported, thinking hard.

Appreciative of Elena's approval to slide into the space beside him, Damon lazily inclined his head so that he faced her. He was all ears for her dramatic re-tell of her near-death experience. She wouldn't be here to tell it had he not stepped in and saved her life. Damon usually found great lengths of hilarity in how often he found himself rescuing Elena from her episodes of damsel in distress, but now it wasn't so amusing. As time went on, these situations got even more perilous. Damon found he needed to protect Elena, rather than force himself to.

"Details needed, Elena," Damon said edgily; he needed her to be specific, in order to know exactly what happened and maybe realise why, "Vampire? Human? Alien? Mentally deficient?"

He stifled his yawn as he waited for her to continue. They hadn't been in this tomb long, but to Damon the hours felt endless. Already, he could feel himself weakening and the disturbing ache in his jaw was slowing becoming more prominent. If they were to be stuck here much longer, Damon had to be careful … An extremely hungry vampire in the presence of a rather appealing human was certainly not a good composition.

Elena's legs nudged themselves together before curling underneath her hips, her right shoulder pressed against the tomb wall as she did so. Months prior to this night Elena would've been repulsed by the idea of being even a fraction of this distance close to him; but now? Elena had seen a side of Damon recently that... If he allowed it to show often enough, it could may, just _maybe_ redeem him of the plentiful heartless acts he'd committed over the hundreds of years he'd been alive. She allowed a small smile to crack across her features, elbowing him lightly before rolling her eyes.

"No, it was the cookie monster," she muttered sarcastically before composing herself and continuing "He was a vampire. And he seemed old, real old," she paused before shaking her head "I don't think he was an original though, or he could've compelled you."

Elena allowed a soft sigh to pass her pouted lips and leant further into the tomb wall, her eyes fluttering, making way for a gentle yawn. Elena continued to burrow herself into the rough surface before making a face, unable to find a comfortable spot.

"And honestly? How the hell am I supposed to sleep in here with rocks constantly jabbing me in the back?"

Damon shrugged, dismissing Elena's attempt at dry sarcasm. It was possible the vampire she was referring to was an Original, but Elena could be right; he just hadn't seemed smart enough to come from the first genesis of vampires. They were usually very powerful and very intelligent, but this one had managed to get himself killed pretty quickly. Damon sighed.

"He could've been an Original," he said contemplatively, kicking aside a dusty rock, "Maybe he was too dumb to compel me. He didn't exactly have the chance to, either. I staked him quick enough."

Damon ran a hand through his shock of silky, black hair. He then gestured for Elena to continue with her recital, but wasn't sure if there was much else worth knowing. So far, nothing she had mentioned explained why Elena was trapped in this tomb. He understood why he couldn't get out, being a vampire and all. But Elena was human. It just didn't make sense.

He turned as his only company in this prison expressed her discomfort. For a moment he frowned, then shrugged off his precious leather jacket and handed it to her without a word. A wry, fake smile etched itself across his lips, but as he turned away again, it vanished. He focused on disregarding the conspicuous ache in his jaw instead. He didn't know how long they'd been stuck in this tomb. Quite frankly, he didn't care. Captivity was just making him hungry and a meal was right there, beside him, its shoulder a mere inch from his own.

Damon shut his eyes and exhaled heavily, resting his head against the wall at his rear. There was no way on earth that he would let himself go through with that. It was Elena. And that mere fact explained it all.

Elena copied Damon's careless shrug at his response; she honestly had no idea a) why such a seemingly weak vampire had been sent to kill her or b) why he'd travelled alone to do it. It was then a sickening, petrifying thought crossed her mind. What if he hadn't travelled alone? What if there were numerous other vampires, older, stronger and much wiser ones ready for the second she and Damon were released to launch their attack? Upon that thought, Elena immediately averted her eyes towards Damon and her heart squeezed. Damon wouldn't die for her; why? Because Elena wouldn't let him; then and there she made a silent, private promise to herself; no more hurt and grief, no matter whether it physical or mental would come to Damon due to her cause. Thrust back to reality by Damon's offer, Elena paused, stunned for a second or two before speaking.

"… Thanks," she said, taking the jacket hesitantly before threading her arms neatly through it; and as she did so, a scent, the most intoxicating smell she'd ever encountered flooded her nostrils and she was momentarily taken aback. Had Damon always smelt this way?

She burrowed into the over-sized black jacket and for a second or two just sat there, beside Damon, not saying a word. That was, until she heard him exhale, as if it was a silent cue for her to speak. She looked down to her hands.

"I don't know how I'm trapped in here; and I don't think I'm going to find out anytime soon," she said, raising her eyes, catching his and then adding "But in the meantime, no matter what happens. I won't let you put your life in danger for me, Damon. I'm not being the cause of your death. It's stupid, and ridiculous, and what's worse is that you know damn right it is."

Even though Damon somewhat appreciated Elena's brave and righteous statement, he couldn't help but disagree with her.

"I have to put my life in danger in order to keep you safe," he told her quietly. His eyes did not waver from hers. He stared into her magically sweet, brown eyes, unblinking and determined, "Whether you like it or not, Elena, if I have to, I'll die protecting you. And so will Stefan."

Damon knew that Elena had something against people putting themselves at risk for her and he could see why. But he wouldn't admit he understood the way she felt. After all, it didn't come from own experiences. Not many people would put themselves in danger to save his life, because he was usually quite able to take care of himself. And … he didn't have many friends that would be willing to do that. As Elena slipped on his jacket (which was miles too big for her), he took a moment to just look at her.

The radiant but feeble glow from the moon lit up her face quite majestically. Her skin looked almost silvery against the glum blackness of the tomb and her long, dark hair shone remarkably. The resemblance to Katherine was uncanny, but it was distinct. They could've been twins. But there were differences. Gracious differences. Elena had a heart and a soul, whereas Katherine had killed hers along with everything else she murdered heartlessly. Elena's eyes glittered with maturity and understanding and Katherine's did not. They were very subtle, ambiguous variations, but they were there all the same.

It was only when Elena looked up at him again that he remembered he was staring. Hastily, he looked away, his eyes darkening at his carelessness.

"You'll get out," he said sternly. "I'll make sure you do."

And before Damon's his first sentence had escaped his mouth, Elena's head was already swaying from side to side, a couple of the strands of her light brown hair shaking as she did so. Damon didn't understand, and as to why he didn't? Elena had no idea. But how could one explain to another of whom was already so willing to die for them that she'd rather sacrifice herself than see any of her loved ones hurt. Including him… And once again, she felt a very obvious and much defined pang in her chest; she clutched her arms tightly; trying to suppress the sudden emotion of which had overwhelmed her. Was this how it would feel if Damon was to die because of her? No, it was not. It would be indescribably worse; that much she knew. She sighed, her eyes now staring down at the dirty ground.

"You don't have to do anything, Damon," Elena said, fairly calmly at first before running his words over in her head, analysing them as she did so; and degree by degree angst and anger boiled up within her soul and at the words 'I'll die protecting you' she lost it.

Elena's head snapped up and she took Damon by the shoulders, her brown bambi eyes burning into his scorching blue orbs as she did so.

"Stop that! I'm not having you speak to me that way! As if I'm someone more important than just a human girl," she paused, her rage increasing more and more by the second. "Don't I get any say in anything at all? It's my life Damon, MY life!" She said in a desperate rasp before loosening her grip on his shoulders and shaking her head, her facial features softening as she continued in a tender whisper. "Do you know what I'd do, how I'd feel if anything happened to you ... Because of me?"

To his surprise, Elena reacted to his assurances very quickly. Damon knew that she would not back down if he and his brother continued to tell her that they would die for her. She wasn't having it. She just didn't understand that her life was worth much more than theirs. They'd walked the Earth for over 170 years now – it didn't matter when their time was up. It should've been up a long time ago. And if Elena was to die, then that meant the Originals had won, for they clearly wanted to witness her fate. Why else would numerous vampires be sent to kill her?

"Elena-"

He tried to cut in but she continued to rant and rave. All he could do was sit there and listen to her, watching as her expression turned stony. But when she finally withdrew her tight grip on his shoulders, he still did not look away from her. Before she could retreat entirely, he grasped her hand quickly in his and held onto it.

"Listen to me," he said roughly, his teeth very nearly clenched at his measure of determination. "You are more than just a human girl and I don't give a damn if you think otherwise." His voice was quiet and somewhat weakened, but steady.

He looked at her intently, as if searching her face for a hidden secret, something she buried there. He let go of her hand but refused to retract his watch upon her. For a moment, he felt transfixed, but what she said next gave him a harsh kick back into reality. Not many people would say something like this to him. He was partially misunderstood and, to many, untrustworthy. It was true, nobody sane would put their faith in him, nor would they not fear him. But Elena … She was different. She seemed to sort of trust him, even if it wasn't a lot, and she understood him like nobody else did. Maybe more than he understood himself.

But as she spoke these gentle words, he looked away and frowned. Then he uttered the truth.

"No. I don't."

And what Damon did next, Elena had not anticipated at all; she had no time whatsoever to react before she felt her hand in Damon's; the second their skin made contact with one another's Elena felt sparks, chills electrify her entire body, setting it on fire as goose pimples appeared upon every line of her skin; Damon had never held her hand this way before... Elena's teeth bit down softly into her lower lip, unable to suppress the feeling so obviously overwhelming her right now. This feeling was strange as well as it was powerful; but, at the same time, scared the hell out of her. Upon the release of her hand, Elena couldn't help but gasp slightly, her fingers still tingling from the contact they'd received from his.

Her eyes held his for a very, very prolonged moment; his words cut through her like a knife, causing her emotions, thoughts, senses to become inflicted and blur into one. She knew Damon cared for her, that much was obvious, but to see how much he did? Well, that was another story altogether. And, without asking permission from her mind, her voice spoke.

"Damon..." She said his name quietly, hesitantly almost, but the words she'd planned on saying just didn't seem to be there anymore; her whispering of his name lingered in the sudden silence for a few moments as she heard the break in his voice at that admittance of misunderstanding.

He didn't know how it felt to be cared for. Right then and there, she was determined to show him; she took his hand again, the spark ignited once more as she spoke.

"Then let me show you."

Vampire intuition would usually tell Damon what was coming in situations similar to this, if not more complicating. But his intuition failed him here, as Elena gripped his hand fiercely in her own, a fiery look in her eyes that was enough to melt his heart. The big, brown orbs he so easily lost himself in seemed to gleam in the moonlight. He saw something in them that he had never seen in Katherine's; something that he had never felt nor experienced himself. But he couldn't place a finger on it exactly. All he knew was that it was intense emotion. He could sense it pulsating from her, emitting a ghostly tension between them.

"Elena-" he started, but cut himself off. He felt something growing within the pit of his stomach, something that seemed to rise into his throat and temporarily obstruct his breathing.

The aching need for the hot, crimson liquid that swam inside her only became more distinct at every word she spoke, her rose-tinted lips shaping each sound confidently.

Damon didn't know what was approaching once these five conclusive words had been uttered. _Then let me show you_ … – he wasn't really thinking about what Elena might do or say next. He was only aware of his intensifying hunger and that his grip on Elena's delicate hand was tightening painfully. He was trying to restrain himself from pouncing on her and burying his face in the flesh of her milk-white neck, from letting his fangs protrude and pierce the soft skin that protected the veins there. Never had he felt his usually sustained control slip away from him before. He attempted to adjust and reinstate his crumbling barriers, but his efforts were proving useless. Yet he continued to fight it, trying very hard to maintain the human shape of his canines.

And when those seemingly significant five words slipped from the part in between Elena's lips she could hardly believe she'd said them. What would Stefan think if he could see them both this way right now? Elena's tiny hand desperately, almost painfully clutching Damon's own whilst each of their sets of orbs continued to bore into one another's, their breathing patterns in unison and the many silent words that to Elena, were so loud they began surrounding her. She swallowed back some sort of emotion she didn't recognise and found herself drowning, suffocating even in the intoxicating smell of his scent coupled with the hold he, and those scorching blue eyes had over her.

It was at that moment that Elena decided what she wanted to do; more so, what she needed to do. The gentle, unprotected whisper of her name from those perfectly shaped lips were the last ounce of inspiration (as well as will power) Elena needed to complete her promise to him that she'd made only moments before. Her free hand raised and reached for his face, she took it gently and her forefinger began tracing the invisible lines of beauty from his jawline, to his nose, to underneath his eyes, his forehead and then, at last his lips. Elena's breath hitched as she shuffled slightly closer to him, her forefinger easily slipping through the gap in between his lips, caressing the sharp edge of his fangs.

"I want you to feed from me, Damon."

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	2. Infect Me With Your Love

**A/N: Hey guys! Oh, wow! This story has been up for less than a day and already there's been so much subscription; thank you so much! Your reviews are so awesome; Steph could hardly believe it when I told her. :P All we ask if that you continue to subscribe, read and ofc review for us. ;) And since we're so impressed with the publication this has gotten already… Here's a treat – the next chapter. (: Depending on interest, we'll update quicker/slower – we've already 21 or so chapters written out so we'll keep them coming as long as you guys keep reading and reviewing! Peace out. :)**

**Chapter 2: Infect Me With Your Love.  
><strong>  
>The thought of what Stefan would say about this barely crossed Damon's mind. He had never cared about what his brother thought about him – he wasn't about to start now. Elena didn't seem particularly apprehensive about what Stefan might do or say if he came across them, barely touching but somehow intimate. If it bothered her, she would retreat. But she wasn't. So Damon did not complain.<p>

An insubstantial breath escaped him at Elena's burning touch. It was almost like a sigh of relief. He found that he had closed his eyes as Elena drew her hand tenderly across his skin, tracing intricate patterns across it with her forefinger. It drew elaborate patterns that lead from one feature to another. Damon believed that the contact between them was leaving invisible burning scars on his face that he was sure he would never be able to discard.

Finally, her finger came to lightly trace the shape of his lips, then parted them and bravely touched the sharpness of his canine teeth. He couldn't hold it in any longer – they protruded clear and visible amongst the rest of his straight, white teeth, as sharp as the most piercing of carving knives. But as Elena drew closer to him, her breathing rapid – he could hear her heart racing – he slowly backed away, his eyes widening in shock at her next few words. How could she suggest he do such a thing? What was she trying to do, test his temptations? It was proving so difficult to sustain control over himself. He refused to look at the pulsing vein in her neck …

"Elena, I can't," insisted Damon desperately, his voice a barely audible whisper, "I can't do that to you, I just-" But he stopped, aware of how weak and child-like he sounded. He despised himself for stooping so low.

It hit him that he sounded exactly like his brother. Pleading and begging as if all this would usher the hunger away. But it wouldn't. Only one thing would get rid of it. Damon risked another look at the base of Elena's neck, which was distinctly visible, calling to him … But he shook his head hastily, swallowing vast amounts of saliva. He didn't care how ridiculous he looked, no matter how much he hated himself for letting his shield down. He couldn't touch Elena, not like that. A siren was screaming at him not to.

For Elena, this went a lot deeper than just helping quench the obvious hunger Damon felt inside of his being; she was... Giving herself to him, gift wrapped if you will and allowing him, asking him to feed from her; to crane his neck, extend his fangs and bite into her tender lily white neck, sucking, almost hastily the precious liquid-red life source from her body. It was the second best thing to sexual intercourse, and, to vampires, perhaps even better. And sure enough, Damon's response was given to her just how she expected it would be; Damon was denying her offer, thus denying his nature, and although Elena knew his reaction would be somewhat similar to this, she couldn't help but notice that she'd never seen Damon do this before. Reject his nature, especially not when it came to blood.

The tip of her forefinger remained upon the point of his now-extended fangs as her brown orbs washed over his facial features; her expression was concentrated, but content. Even the revelation of vivid red veins highlighting underneath, as well as around his eyes combined with the sudden shock of electric blue causing his eyes to glow dangerously, Elena couldn't find him terrifying. Elena shook her head from side to side, her eyes never leaving his own as she brought herself just that little bit closer to him, in fact, if she had gotten any closer she'd be sitting upon his lap. Quite literally. Her hand unlocked from his own and cupped his face, her other taking the other side as she brought his face upwards, forcing him to look at her.

"Damon, Damon... Look at me," she whispered, gaining his full attention before flipping her hair back behind her right shoulder and then capturing his cheek one more, just as she had moments before "You can do this to me, because I want you to," she paused, her thumbs gently caressing the demonic engravings of crimson under his eyes as she did so "Don't hide from me," she breathed, a small smile breaking across her lips as she finished "I trust you."

The ugly red markings that remorselessly decorated the usually flawless skin around his eyes only became more audacious as Elena traced a soft finger across the dark engravings. The beauty of Damon's features had transformed within the space of a minute; his eyes - once an intoxicating, smouldering ice-blue that twinkled with keen impishness - were a horrible, bottomless black, alive with raw determination and stained with bloody veins that only the indulgence of warm, coppery blood would relinquish. He supported the appearance of the monster he really was - the monster he had long ago learnt to accept and to embrace and (much to his brother's dismay) to use as an advantage.

Damon never thought he would ever reject blood, especially when it was offered willingly. Usually, he would not hesitate to sink his teeth into someone. But now it was different …

In the past, back amidst his rebellious stages, he would've done all he could to get his hands on Elena and feel her strive in his grasp as he robbed her of her life source and took it for his own. When he returned to Mystic Falls for the first time since the 15th Century, his eyes had immediately fallen upon Elena - his younger brother's new girlfriend - and he instantly found himself infatuated with her. Not because of her uncanny resemblance to Katherine (though it was a contributing factor), but because of her feisty, fiery personality. He'd said upon their first encounter, once instantaneously drawn to her, that she had spunk.

Damon wasn't sure why his aspect of Elena now differed from his aspect of her a few months ago. Maybe a trust had grown between them, uniting them in a way Damon never thought possible.

He hated Stefan, hated him for getting to her first. Damon had always seen himself as the subordinate of the two - second choice, last resort - because he wasn't like his brother. He wasn't kind, he wasn't generous, and he wasn't good. He was everything that was the opposite of those things and that fact often cast him into the shadows, a place he had somewhat welcomed. He belonged to the darkness, ring or not. Now, however, he was doing his best to disregard Elena's whispered offer, trying to take no notice of her perfect skin he so badly wanted to taste; his jaw ached painfully with the anticipation as he imagined the sickly-sweet flavour of her …

"Well, you're an idiot!" Damon shouted, pulling his gaze roughly from the throat he realised he had been staring at.

He glared at Elena, maintaining steady eye contact, but the dark, evil look in his gaze did not falter, "Listen to me," he demanded weakly, "You're stupid to trust me. I may have control over myself, but not all the time. I can't sustain it all the time." Exasperated, he buried his face in the palm of his hands, "I could - I could hurt you."

She could see him wrestling both with himself and his inner demons. And deep down, Elena knew she shouldn't be doing this. Why? Because of a number of reasons that Elena most likely couldn't record with the use of both of her hands, and yet... Elena simply couldn't stop herself from doing so. Ever since the very moment they'd first met one another, all of those months ago which, indeed did seem like ten lifetimes; Elena was instantly attracted to him, like a magnet almost - sucked in helplessly by his hypnotic pull. And time and time again, Damon had insisted there was something between them, and for so long she'd denied it. Well, up until this moment, at least.

But of course, if Elena had been any other typical teenage girl (and not the spitting image of the Salvatore's long lost love, Katherine) then she would've no doubt fell head over heels for the elder Salvatore brother. Although, somehow through all of the angst and pain Damon had managed to cause her over the rather short time they'd known one another, Elena simply could not hate him. In fact, right now, she hated herself more than anything. He was acting nothing like the way he had previously around her and Elena had no idea what to make of it. Or more so to the point, what to make of how he made her feel... Elena sucked back a harsh breath as she felt him wretch underneath her and yell out his words in a short blast of rage.

She blinked a couple of times, shaking her head as she did so, her hands momentarily falling from their hold on his face. Despite jolting aback ever so slightly, it wasn't at his words the movement occurred; it was because of the volume of which they had been projected in. Because of this, Elena was not fooled. Not one bit. She'd seen the real Damon, the man behind the mask, if you will and she saw good inside of him; she saw a side.. That she wanted to embrace. That her mind, body and soul combined wanted to relish within; if Elena were a vampire - Damon would be her blood. And as the thought crossed her mind, Elena heard Damon's weak, hushed whisper and without thinking, she took his hands and placed them parallel onto her hips; she shuffled closer to him, bringing his face skyward once more.

"You won't," she said, her voice barely audible and her breath far more ragged than was usual "Let me do this one thing for you," her words were slow, composed like the unwritten lyrics to a forbidden song, gently floating in the air around them "Let me in, Damon... Let me in."

Her finger traced lightly over his lower lip, her eyes holding his gaze steadily as she did so.

Why was she so determined? Why was she so desperate for this pain? And why, God why, did she make him so badly want to give in? The effect she had on him was somewhat dangerous, but greatly pleasurable at the same time. Her aura was so damn persuasive that he found it immensely challenging to pull away from her – though he hadn't realised he'd leant in so close. He wasn't aware he'd moved at all. His lips were mere inches from her neck; he could feel his sharp fangs against the sensitivity of his lip. Her sweet, flowery scent lingered there, teasing his receptors. His breathing was calm – though breathing wasn't essential for a vampire – and if it could beat, he didn't doubt that his heart would be pounding.

But Damon still did not understand why he was resisting the temptation. He was only betraying himself and his nature. He was disregarding who he really was. What he really was …

"You don't know what you're saying, Elena," whispered Damon, his voice hoarse and rough. His gaze did not waver from the bare skin of her neck, from the purple veins that twisted together beneath her flesh, pulsing so extravagantly, "You really, really don't know what you've done-"

The impulse struck instantly; the hunger had gotten too much. Elena's alluring aroma, the smoothness of her skin, the beating of her heart, so alive … It was all pushing the limit.

He fell closer to her neck without any more hesitation, and braced himself, pulling his lips back and baring the sharpness of the tools beneath, before taking the plunge. Harshly, he struck, his knife-sharp teeth brutally piercing the base of Elena's neck, catching the correct artery with experience and flair. Within gracious seconds, a sensual flavour filled his mouth that poured relentlessly down his throat as he swallowed eagerly. The hand that wasn't gripping Elena's shoulder lifted to cup her neck, as if clinging on for dear life. Damon was on his knees by now, his head bent over Elena's shoulder as he drank from her, drank so much he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop …

Now, many people would call Elena stupid, insane, or a crazy combination of the above; but in all honesty; that was exactly what Elena was. She wouldn't deny that this was perhaps the most dangerous and life-threatening idea Elena had ever had, but she wanted to do this. Elena knew the effect that she had upon Damon and due to this, one would assume Elena would have the natural intellect to keep as far away from Damon as she possibly could right now; although, Elena wasn't thinking with her head right now. How could she in a situation such as this one? Damon was already weak as it stood; leaving him without his precious life substance for any longer could and would cause some serious damage. And allowing any more to come to Damon by Elena's actions was an event Elena was determined to deter.

And at the hard, ragged tone of his words, Elena knew then and there that she'd won. Or rather, lost… if Damon wasn't able to pull back the gear of his self-control whilst drinking from her. This time, Elena didn't respond to him with words, she merely froze; allowing Damon's eyes to drink her in as she watched the dagger-like fangs in his gums extend once more. It all happened so quickly then, one moment Damon was staring at her neck in utter awe and the next his neck had craned and took the final dive to her own. His grip on her shoulder was harsh at first, as was the pin-prick of Damon's piercing fangs; her eyes shut tight as she swallowed, bracing herself for the inevitable pain to come. However, after a few seconds, Elena relaxed against his body, feeling his free hand clutch her face, Elena exhaled hard and found herself... Enjoying it?

The warm, crimson liquid continued to pour relentlessly from the snake-bite wounds Damon had fashioned expertly upon the bare skin of Elena's exposed neck. He continued to drink the fluid without hesitation, his body merged comfortably with Elena's own slim form as he indulged pleasurably. But he had to stop soon, or he'd drain her and leave her a limp and empty corpse. It was just proving horrifically difficult. He was so used to drinking the life from his victims – he found it tricky to convince himself Elena was not a helpless victim, but a friend doing a favour. A strange favour, but a favour all the same.

Elena's blood tasted so delightfully different to anything else he'd felt upon his tongue. It was sweeter and had a sharper taste to it – something Damon could definitely get used to.

Compared to her blood, others were like tea without sugar or a recipe missing an imperative ingredient. Elena's blood had something that others didn't and it made it that much more addictive. But if he were to go any further, then she'd no doubt pass out. Temptations always got the better of him – when it came to occurrences of immense thirst, it took rather a lot to pull away when finally the drink was in your hand and at your lips.

Damon's body was now moulded perfectly against Elena's slim form. His hand still harshly cupped the base of her neck and his teeth were still dangerously inserted into her soft skin. His eyes were closed against the flow of blood that tipped into his mouth and slid down his throat. How long had he been at this? How much had he consumed? As each drop entered his previously weakened system, he felt himself strengthen again, all power being restored. In no time, he'd have his usual Damon-like energy back. All he needed now was his control …

It was then that it seemed to hit him, the realisation. What the hell was he doing? Why had he given in to her? As if awoken from a nightmare, Damon pulled abruptly away from Elena and, in the desperate commotion, had flung her away from him. He was on his feet and facing the dirty wall of the tomb, his face in his hand, her blood still oozing down his chin. He felt the trickle and hastily wiped it away, his expression contorted with rage and self-betrayal.

Right now, Elena could feel not only Damon's mouth press desperately against her jaguar vein, but also his torso on her own; she could feel every line, every crevice of his body to almost precision as his weight shared the mass of her own; her tiny hands palmed themselves onto his chest, not pushing away, but slowly tracing their way over the fabric of his shirt, over the dip in his shoulder blades and finding themselves roaming in his dark hair; her eyes were shut tightly and she inhaled sharp breaths, biting down on her lip occasionally to suppress a moan. Elena wasn't quite sure how this was a pleasurable experience for her, or even if it should be for anybody; but there was one thing Elena knew for certain - she shouldn't be doing this.

It wasn't that she feared for her own life; for, if she did then Elena would've never suggested and then further pressured the vampire into doing it in the first place. No, the thing of which made it so agonizingly wrong was the amount of sensual satisfaction she was receiving from the suck and lick of Damon's slick tongue and lips. She allowed the blood transfusion to continue for a minute or two before she began to feel noticeably fainter than she had prior to the event. Although, it was nothing she was too worried about - she'd felt worse. A lot worse. Her hands slipped from out of their place in his hair and shaped down to his shoulders, just as she felt the two pin pricks release from her smooth skin. And before Elena had any time to recover whatsoever... Damon's body tensed against hers and her body stumbled back half a foot and her eyes shot upwards to a clearly disheartened Damon.

And for an instant or two, Elena had no idea what to think; what to say, what to do. This was Damon, a conflicted Damon and suddenly, the art of comforting Damon when he was this way seemed strangely foreign to her. Elena's small hands were fixed onto the ground now as she stared up at the vampire, a peculiar, unreadable expression across her face; she waited for a few seconds, as if expecting him to gain some sort of control over himself before pulling herself to a shaky sort-of stand and then taking two steps towards Damon.

"Damon..." she whispered, reaching out slowly, tentatively and placing her hand lightly on his arm "It's okay... It's okay."

Elena's hesitant touch to his arm seemed to wake Damon from his daze. Almost instantly, he spun away from the dirty wall he'd been facing and rounded on Elena, gripping her shoulders and giving her a desperate shake.

"No, Elena, it's not OK!" he hissed at her through gritted teeth, "You have no idea how wrong it was to let you persuade me!"

His icy stare was fathomless as he gazed helplessly into Elena's own brown eyes, searching them so intently as if he'd find all the answers to his problematic questions if he dug deep enough. She just didn't understand; he'd been fighting the temptation to take Elena for his own for so long, and he'd betrayed himself by giving into it. All his efforts, all his frantic determination had proved useless.

But Damon couldn't help but notice the effect her blood had on him. He felt the surging power in his veins, the immeasurable amount of strength he now possessed. It was then that he realised he was gripping Elena a little too tightly – he didn't want to hurt her. He slackened his grip, peered into her face searchingly still, before letting go of her entirely, withdrawing his gaze and instead settling it to the dirt and rock-strewn ground.

"It can't happen again, Elena," he muttered darkly, with a slow shake of his head. He was still enraged with himself for taking so much blood from her – he was surprised she hadn't almost fainted. Usually, he would not care if he completely drained a human being, but somehow … Elena was different. Not to mention, Stefan would leave him in the tomb to desiccate. The burning hatred between them that had managed to simmer down would flame up again, more heated than ever.

He would not give into the temptation again. For Elena's sake, for Stefan's sake and for his own sake. He would not allow it.

And as if Elena were linked to Damon due to some invisible chain of her soul to his own; Elena knew what Damon's next move would be as well as his words; of course he would defy her. Of course. And despite Elena being mentally prepared for Damon's burst of anger, it seemed her physical body did not share that same assurance as she flinched, almost immediately at Damon's sudden touch and at the harsh way he shook her fragile frame. And for a second, just for the smallest fragment of it, Elena saw what Damon wanted her to see - the Damon that every wise mortal, and in reality even his younger brother Stefan feared; the inhumane, blood thirsty predator and of who could kill her in an instant without even a second thought. She swallowed back that emotion and image and locked it away, somewhere hopefully never to be discovered again and suppressed and inward shudder at recalling Damon's erratic nature.

But that was just it... The sudden realisation hit Elena so hard that the pain caused from Damon's pressing fingers and angry words for a second didn't affect her; the realisation that it was in his nature to react this way. Damon had portrayed such self-control during the countless times they had been around one another, and especially mere seconds ago whilst he had been slowly draining her from her most precious life source; and, in doing this, Elena had forgotten how hard it must've been for him. And because of that, Elena would not give up on him. She was determined - if it was the last thing she did she would make Damon see.

As he released her, Elena fell back half a step and for a few, prolonged moments, simply remained silent before beginning to gently rub the places on her shoulder Damon had grasped.

"I won't give up on you," Elena said in a low breath before shaking her head, and repeated the words a second time, as if confirming it whilst her gaze dropped to the floor "I won't."

Rage was still bubbling within Damon. How could Elena not know how dangerous this was? How stupid she was to let him take her blood? He knew how ridiculously stubborn she could be – whatever he said, it wouldn't matter to her, she would have none of it. She was just as determined to break him as he was to break the neck of whoever put them in this tomb. He hated that person more than anything now that this had happened. He had succumbed to what he had been resisting most – self-betrayal was the worst feeling the world.

"You have to!" yelled Damon. His desperate cry reverberated off the walls of the tomb, until the echo got quieter and further away. He felt like punching something, but he felt sure he would scare Elena; he didn't want that, "Elena, please, you have to give up. Whatever it is you're trying to do, stop. It's not going to benefit anyone."

He looked at her hard, sharp ice-blue on soft chocolate-brown.

She had such beautiful eyes of such a tranquil and mesmerising colour. Sometimes just looking at them made him feel serene. And the perfect colour of her skin … It was a siren that called him to her, offering him its taste and the liquid that flowed layers beneath. Everything about Elena Gilbert was a temptation. All he wanted was to touch her, taste her and kiss her until she was breathless. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

Damon could resist admitting it all he wanted; but deep down inside there was a part of him that felt... And, perhaps, felt a little more than he perhaps should; but the humanity within Damon that over the past few months, Elena had seen blossom built the person he was now - the person who, given the most potent substance of all could pull away, and overcome the urge to continue to drain her until Elena's heartbeat slowed and then finally halted. But right now, Damon couldn't see that he released her from his grip, that he'd retracted his fangs and suppress the urge to drink her dry - all he could feel was shame; the guilt had engulfed him to such an extent he was unable to grasp the usual low, husky composed whisper Elena was so used to escaping his mouth - Damon was struggling and Elena knew that. And as much as Damon and especially herself constantly denied... He needed her.

His desperate cry didn't faze her at all now for that very reason - it was desperate. Her facial features softened as she inhaled a sharp breath and soundlessly crossed the distance between them; her brown bambi's hold remained intact on his ocean blue orbs as she reached the elder brother.

"You're scared," she said it in a voice so low only herself and that of the supernatural would've been able to hear it; her tiny hand reached up and she brushed a single strand of hair from his face before cupping his perfectly defined cheekbone "But I'm not," she exhaled, her face so near to Damon's she was sure he'd be able to feel the heat radiating from her breath, "I believe in you; let yourself believe in you."

All Damon could do was stare helplessly into the beautiful eyes of Elena Gilbert. She was so close to him that he could do nothing but that. His eyes travelled deliberately over every facial feature that was prominent to him; her gleaming eyes, her perfectly-structured nose and the dusky rose shade of her lips. Upon her lips were where his eyes lingered and he found it impossible to look away …

In a way, she was right. He was scared, but of the outcomes, not of the beforehand incident. He was the type to venture willingly into the most dangerous of occurrences without the slightest trace of fear, but would come out of it mildly dreading what would happen next. Though he never showed it; he always managed to keep it bottled up tightly along with everything else that he felt. Everything but hatred.

"Elena," whispered Damon, a note of complaint in his voice, but he said nothing else.

Her name felt strangely good on his tongue, and he whispered it several more times before closing the miniscule gap between them. His lips lightly and hesitantly brushed hers, as if he wasn't sure whether to go through with this. He could taste her sweet breath on his tongue and inhaled it, his lips still contrasting tenderly with her own. His eyes were closed against the tension and he was still drifting between kissing her avidly and pulling away. He didn't know what route to choose, because both seemed wrong and both seemed right.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	3. Carnival Of Rust

**A/N: Aloha! Here we are, again with ANOTHER update; told you guys we wouldn't make you wait **_**as long **_**;). Well, firstly we have to say a HUGE thank you to all of our readers, subscribers and **_**especially **_**our gorgeous reviewers – we heart you so much! :D (Please continue on reviewing for us – the positive feedback is just a-m-a-z-i-n-g!) Okay, about this chapter – inspired by the all-time incredible song 'Carnival of Rust – Poets of the Fall' is a great track to listen to whilst reading. So, please review for us and… Of course; enjoy! :)**

**Chapter 3: Carnival of Rust.**

And if Elena didn't get through to that stubborn, overly-charismatic mind of his she would be running out of options vastly; what else could she say to him? What else was there to say to convince him that she was there for him; that she would always be because she needed him just as much as she knew he needed her? She knew it was terribly wrong - but perhaps the most awful part about it was that when she was with Damon - nothing felt negative. Nothing. Not the closeness of their bodies, not the way the smell of his breath made her head swirl, nor the instant spark of electric chemistry of which shot through her veins upon the rare moments that their bare skin did touch. It was upon that thought that Elena realised that she had lied; she had lied both to Damon and to herself. She was scared. No, she was terrified.

Absolutely petrified of letting her feelings for the elder and far more sinister Salvatore brother run wild; despite this, the second her name slithered in that low, breathless murmur of which escaped so effortlessly from Damon's lips - all sense of logic became foreign to her as her gaze held onto Damon's, watching him move closer and closer, her frame frozen to its prior position as finally he closed the gap between their two sets of hungry and ghastly neglected lips. Damon's mouth was soft against her own and very, very hesitant. Elena pulled back a centimetre, only to catch a quick breath before measuring the emotion in Damon's eyes and then replacing her lips onto his own; she kissed him full on the mouth as her eyelids fluttered to gentle close.

Now that it had happened, there was no turning back. There was no running from this case of intimacy like he had been doing every time he and Elena got close. The way their lips briskly touched, contrasting in careful and diminutive motions, would stick in Damon's memory until someone staked him in the heart. He would not be able to rid himself of the replays he was sure to experience, nor would he be able to rid himself of the indistinct tingle that would forever taint his lips. He had both desired and wanted to avoid this moment for as long as he could possibly manage – it seemed that the willpower to resist the enticement had fled, leaving him temporarily bare and without a shield to hide behind. He felt naked and unadulterated, which was Damon's idea of helpless.

When Elena leant back an inch, as if to witness that it really was Damon she was kissing, he took the precious second to look at her determinedly.

He was trying to get a message through to her, to explain mentally how he felt right now but either it hadn't worked or she had ignored it, because the gap had been closed again, and her lips crushed against his eagerly as he could do nothing but disregard all uncertainty and remorse. Every negative thought that he had previously been pondering on flew from his mind as he dived head first into the rich and sickly sweet kiss. His hand lifted to tangle itself in her hair and his other cupped the base of her neck as he pulled her closer to him – if it was possible. Damon was momentarily lost in the moment, as if dead centre of a maze with no exit in sight. The thing was, though … He didn't want to find the exit.

Who would've thought that one kiss; a single rash action, displaying a person's fragmented self-control causing to sets of lips to join together in harmony could cause such a reaction within the receiver's body. Elena had no idea what kind of a reaction Damon's body was undergoing right now, but her own felt as though it was on fire; a flame hidden deep within the dark depths of Elena's soul had been ignited the very instant their lips locked and instead of taking advice from her mind and all but obviate the flame, Elena found herself engrossing and embracing the rich taste of Damon's lips and allowed the flame to begin to burn profusely. The yearn for Damon to hold her this way, to touch her with his smooth, very capable hands had become all too much, and Elena felt herself drowning in the waters of sheer desire with no means of escape. Worse yet, she too, much like Damon did not want to escape.

And as if confirming this thought, the second Elena felt Damon's hand desperate clutch at her skin and then pull her closer, Elena's body reacted willingly as her left hand planted firmly onto his chest, her nimble fingers fumbling towards his collar; acting on pure impulse alone, Elena's single hand pushed Damon back a step and into the tomb wall whilst her free hand threaded into Damon's dark locks, her lips parting as she allowed her tongue to meet Damon's. She rolled her tongue over and over his own, massaging it tentatively as her voice whispered sweet whimpers of his name into the very same mouth moving against her own in such a sweet, yet passionate dance.

Damon felt no pain as he was pushed hungrily against the wall of the tomb. Instead, he felt the hard, cold stone through the thin material of his black shirt biting into his skin. Raw excitement came to life within the pit of his gut, sending involuntary tremors down his spine. His hand remained loosely tangled in Elena's soft and sweet-smelling hair and the other drifted from her collar to the curve of her hip, urgently gripping the flesh beneath the unfortunate cover of her shirt. Something inside him seemed to melt as Elena gradually slipped her tongue between his lips, tasting his own in a fervent kiss. He responded appreciatively to the timid whimpers of his name and gripped her waist harder, desperately searching her body for a place he hadn't already touched, grasping handfuls of her hair in his fist, pulling at the silky brown locks, not caring if he was pulling too hard.

He was amused at himself for letting her have so much control over him – it was a humorous matter now that all anxiety had been discarded, more than a risky one. He smiled into the heated kiss – it was usually he who remained in control in situations such as this. And he would regain that control right now, he thought impishly.

He spun them both around and took a step forwards, shoving Elena against the cold stone instead. He pinned her to the wall with his body, embracing the fire burning between them. He grasped the wrist of the hand that was settled across his chest and trapped it against the wall along with her petite build, intertwining his fingers with hers as he kissed her breathless. Everything about this fiery intimacy was sending out powerful sirens and warnings to Damon, but he was too lost in the maze of lust and fulfilment to understand why he was being warned.

His mind was a world of fuzzy pictures and white noise; nothing was getting through to him – he wasn't allowing it to. He had dug himself a hole so deep that he doubted he would ever be able to climb out of it. But at the moment, he didn't care.

Elena could feel the powerful rage of lust coursing through her veins, urging forward her body's responses and eventually reaching the tips of Elena's fingers; her right hand still clutched desperately to Damon's dark locks, her breath hitching as the passion of their kiss continued to elevate in both intensity and speed; her head was spinning and underneath her closed lids was a forbidden concoction of tainted pleasures; all of which Elena was currently allowing herself to indulge in now with the elder Salvatore brother and events which were doubtlessly about to lead the pair onto. Elena felt a hand grip at her waist, Damon's, and another, a much more audible whimper escaped her lips of the sheer satisfaction of his aggressive touch - she wanted him to touch her harder, to touch her in every possible place one person could touch another; she wanted to feel every single crevice of Damon's body aligned with her own.

It was then that it dawned upon the young doppelganger; she wanted him. And she wanted all of him; and, as if once again Damon and Elena were communicating between some invisible attachment of their two souls, linking both their bodies and their minds, Damon flipped their positions, pressing her, pushing her almost desperately into the tomb wall as Elena's lips continued to mesh themselves affectionately against Damon's. Her fingers squeezed tightly against Damon's as her tongue traced over the smooth fleshy part of Damon's lip; she moaned out loud as she delicately trapped his lower lip between her teeth - enticing the desire between the two of them, deliciously evoked by the sensations Damon's body brought out in her own.

The hand of which had been for many moments lost in the messy knots of Damon's hair unthreaded and slid onto his neck; her fingers left long, red scratches at the skin there before gripping the collar of his shirt harshly.

"Damon..." She managed in a lust-lathered whisper as an attempt to relieve some of the pleasure she was currently undergoing.

How far was this going to go? The question rang about Damon's mind as the fire between them increased in heat and height, connecting human and vampire both physically and mentally. Everything she did to him egged him on; every place she touched burned from the skin-on-skin contact and every time she gasped, whispered, whimpered his name it sent reverberations of pleasure through his body – her harmonious voice was a toxin to his heart, like her avid kisses were to his swollen lips. All Damon wanted was to unleash the hungry, aggressive creature locked away inside him and run his hands over every curve of her body whilst relishing in the smoothness of her skin and the sweet aroma she possessed.

Whilst imprisoned in this god forsaken tomb, Elena was his to inveigle and he was hers to allure. Nothing was around to stop them from the steamy intimacy that only seemed to intensify between them, enhancing their ever-escalating desperation and need.

Damon groaned with pleasure as he felt the roughness of Elena's nails scraping at his skin, leaving marks that he would never get rid of, even if they did fade. She dragged her hand down his neck and gripped at the collar of his shirt whilst he released the hand he had pinned to the stone wall of the tomb and moved his arms down to freely explore her mid-section. His fingers tugged at the material of her shirt, before shoving it aside with experienced fingers – he clearly had a lot of flair when it came to seductive motions upon a woman. At long last, his desperate touch finally found the bare skin of her hip; he gripped it gratefully, running his fingers roughly over her nude stomach, before resting them upon her hips.

"Elena …" he breathed as he created the tiniest of gaps between their lips.

His eyes remained closed as he inclined his head towards her jaw line, planting warm kisses across the bone structure with the aid of his tongue, creating a burning trail of them down her neck, across her shoulder and finally – as he shifted aside her shirt – across her chest.

Damon could no longer resist his deepest desires – he had given in to them unwillingly, but had continued on with doing what he wished to Elena, who seemed only too happy to oblige him in return. He was pleased that she had done so, for he did not think he would get through it without the sensation of her touching him and grasping all that she could with agitated desperation. He quite admired her flair.

There was nothing that could tear Elena part from this moment with Damon, not now - and she felt, most certainly not ever; there was too much to explore now she'd found the key to the long forbidden fortress of their joint passion and Elena was engulfed by it and desperately needed to explore what lay within; she was high off of the grateful grasp of his fingers and drunk off of the divine taste of his lips motioning so perfectly - so hungrily with her own. Elena was playing a dangerous game now - the animal within Damon, the one of which craved her and nothing more she had more than allowed to let loose and now it was Elena's, solely hers to deal with; but she couldn't, she wouldn't... She embraced it and in turn continued to allure the immortal onward. Her fingernails still tingled from the tantalizing touch of Damon's skin whilst a jolt of electricity shot throughout her body at Damon's pleasured moans.

Elena's arms raised willingly at Damon's command as she let the material of her shirt blissfully pass her by upon the experienced work of Damon's hands; she had without a doubt never revealed this much of herself to Damon before, and, despite this, did not feel any amount of hesitation whatsoever; the poisoned taste of desire was still dominant within her soul as her tongue tasted the beautiful substance of the elder Salvatore's seduction. Her fragile frame shuddered against his grip as her hands clutched at Damon's shoulders, forcing him closer as she writhed in the fantastic feel of his smooth hands caressing the skin at her stomach. At the break of their kiss, Elena's eyes involuntarily rolled to the back of her head as his hot kisses plagued along her jawline and then neck; her fingers momentarily threaded into his dark locks as she grasped, hard.

"Oh... Da-mon..." her voice held no strength to it, just the sensual tone of that of a woman being pleasured by a partner of who seemed to pleasure her like no other.

Her hands once again portrayed that of the reckless, erratic nature Damon's influence brought out within her as her games shifted anxiously down to his shirt and with a wild scrape of her hands, tore open Damon's shirt; she hurriedly rid him of the seemingly unnecessary material before running her palms over the smooth curve of Damon's shoulder, arching her chest into him as she allowed her eyelids to flutter, in a failing attempt to try and compose herself.

Damon held no objection to the removal of his shirt. He gladly allowed Elena to tear it open, revealing his well-kept, flat-muscled midriff, before she slid it impatiently from his shoulders and let it drift to the floor. His hands slid around to her lower back, gripping the flat surface of her healthily-toned body and pulled it closer to him as she arched in her chest. Damon began to fervently remove her shirt the way she had discarded his, shifting it higher up her body whilst desperately running his hands all over her olive skin, savouring the smoothness and revelling in her body heat. He continued to plant kisses keenly upon any bare areas of skin his lips could find, still enthusiastically groping any part of her that would satisfy his desires.

Never before had he felt so enticed by a young woman. Boredom usually kicked in when his victim surrendered to him, instead of fighting with her own sensual weaponry of touch and taste. He enjoyed being in control, but did not brush off a woman's exploring fingers, reject her if she took leadership every so often or push her away if she wore out his name with how often she breathed it amidst the corporeal pleasures he granted her.

He had never known little Elena, self-righteous and innocent, to contain such aggression in bodily contact or to find great appreciation in the way he expertly handled her. It was then that the realisation kicked him; she had been resisting him as much as he had been resisting her. All this time, they had wanted each other, but the useless form of the younger Salvatore brother had stood in their way, disallowing it. He couldn't help but cruelly smirk as he kissed Elena's soft skin – it would really be a kick to see the expression on Stefan's face if he were to witness this. Right now, tipsy on infatuation and a lustful drive, he cared not of what his brother's reaction would be. All guilt, all reluctance from moments ago had been evaporated by the poisonous and dominating thoughts his mind processed at every strongly intimate move upon Elena.

The constant kisses Damon planted on every applicable area of skin of which his mouth could reach had Elena undergoing a fever of lust as she delved deeper into her soul's most inner desires; as Damon's hands gripped at her hour-glass figure Elena handed over the control of it towards the immortal being currently, consistently giving unto her what he desperately craved; of course, what Elena was allowing to be unleashed right now was something of which she'd kept buried, and with good reason, for the desire she held for Damon was far too potent to be handled lightly - but Elena was unable to think rationally, or even think at all as her mind was all too wrapped up in the passionate embrace she and Damon had tumbled all too willingly into. At that moment she began searching the corners of her mind for an ounce of guilt or a seed of premature regret but she could find none - just the fiery intensity of the fire burning within her being.

With her chest now barely covered, Elena crushed her body solidly against his as she felt her heart now take on a humming-bird nature, beating so fast a part of her was afraid that it would soon beat right out of her chest. Her skin was scattered with goose pimples as every nerve-ending in her body became a live wire; she had never desired something, someone as much as she did Damon Salvatore at this moment in time - and right now the forbidden fruit did no doubt taste the sweetest... Her palms shifted from their position at his shoulders and slid slowly down to his chest; his skin set her own ablaze as she delicately explored the perfectly carved planes of his chest and then continued to massage over his wonderfully shaped physique.

Without warning, Elena felt her leg stroke the side of Damon's before hooking itself loosely onto his hip causing their two pelvis' to brush together; Elena yelped out from the mild friction against their cores before biting hard onto her lower lip whilst her nails raked down his toned torso.

The heat of Elena's hands running keenly all over his body and the sudden brisk contact between Damon and Elena's cores sent delightful shivers down Damon's spine. For a moment, he paused what he was doing, lifting his head from the kissing and licking of the base of her neck, his eyes cast downwards, as if something had all of a sudden caught his attention. A flash of trepidation whipped across his face, but within a blink it was once again expressionless. He was contemplating whether to go through with the rest of this – it was dangerous and so totally and utterly wrong ... But the damage had already been done. The line had already been crossed. And now that he had given in to his innermost desires, what was the point in turning back?

He was topless, dressed only in dark jeans that settled at his hips, his chest rising and falling at a rapid speed and Elena's was barely covered – looking at her nearly-bare chest made him want to tear the material clean off her petite body.

Their bodies were as close as two bodies could get and now Damon found himself automatically grinding against Elena, his breathing heavy. He lifted his eyes to Elena's face, his lips slightly parted as he held her gaze. He ran his hand up and down her thigh, and then hooked his fingers underneath the knee of the leg wrapped around him. He took a two second breather, before abruptly hoisting her leg up higher, a smirk rascally tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn't hesitate to catch her mouth in a hungry kiss again, grasping her bottom lip harshly between his teeth, his unoccupied hand running freely over her revealed body, caressing the line of her breastbone eagerly with the palm of his hand. The minor grinding movements Damon was making against Elena was sending the beating of his heart haywire; his breathing quickened and he disregarded all sudden feelings of regret that had come rushing back to him as quick as a flash.

He wanted this, and so badly. Never had he denied himself of something he wanted – he wasn't about to change that. This sudden verge of electricity through his system seemed to have awakened the dangerous side of Damon – the Damon he truly was. The savage creature inside him had awoken from its slumber; all it wanted to do was drag its teeth across Elena's chest to taste her pulsing heart.

Elena wasn't sure what the culprit was for the sudden hitching of her leg at Damon's side, but she would give a good guess at it being the insane urge her body had suddenly thrived in to ravish Damon; or, rather, to have Damon ravish her. It was at the shudder of Damon's own body that once again sent millions of involuntary ones of her own, the tremors barely able to keep the no doubt tainted love tamed. But the moment after the dreaded but certainly most desirable action, involving the two most sensitive parts of their bodies had been performed, she felt the cease of Damon's kisses and licks across her chest; and Elena would be lying if she said that this didn't dis-hearten her. Her brown bambi eyes flickered open and a perplexed expression crossed her features as a pang of dismay filled her stomach; had she done something wrong..?

Had she single handedly destroyed this moment with a lust-driven grind of her hips against his..? Despite the slight disruption in their steamy session, Elena had not another moment to ponder over her debated mistake as Damon's hand soon began to slither up her toned thigh and ultimately fix her leg at the destination Elena would've been able to reach if she'd been just that degree or two taller. It was at the fiction Damon now forced against her still-clothed centre that had Elena whimpering with sexual satisfaction; Elena, as if by instinct, gyrated her hips against his own, catching his hardened arousal against her most sensitive area, only causing her moans to increase in frequently as well as audio. Her eyes once again snapped to an abrupt close as her lips moved in a wilder and far more passionate motion with Damon's.

Elena continued to writhe, even more so now underneath Damon, his very touch sending a frenzy of excitement through her body as her fingers, now gripping onto his shoulders, allowed her to hitch her opposite leg onto his side, mirroring the action upon the other side of his body. Her finger nails grazed down his back, finding her new found position much more comfortable, no doubt pleasurable.

"Oh god... Damon..." she breathed, her eyes squeezing tighter as she continued to thrust against him.

Elena's quiet moans were enough to persuade Damon to take their intimacy a step further. He continued to methodically push himself against her sensitivity, his bare torso pinning her securely to the hard stone of the tomb wall, as he continued to caress her thighs with the warm palms of his hands. He inclined his head to plant a trail of hot kisses passionately and hungrily across her jaw line as his hands journeyed further up her body until they settled nicely upon the perfect curvature of her hips. For a moment, he stroked the revealed skin there, tepid and convivial to his touch. He smiled in pleasure against the bone of her jaw and then hooked his experienced fingers into the waistline of her jeans, pulling the denim further down her hips in a desperate attempt to reach hidden vicinities.

His breathing was coming out in fast, frantic whispers as the feeling of need grew stronger within him. If his heart was alive, it would be slamming against his ribcage - demanding release from its sturdy bone prison. Though it must've been cold outside, the connection between both human and vampire was generating enough heat to warm the entire tomb. Damon could practically see the fire igniting between them, uniting them in a way he had never thought possible. Elena had been Stefan's and only Stefan's. His little brother had gotten to the girl first, as usual, leaving him to mournfully look on as his sibling loved her as a gentleman would.

But now it was his turn; he had never wanted Elena so much in the few months they'd known each other – not even amidst the days of his rebellious stages of sadistic bloodlust. He wanted her now and needed her now; if he didn't take her, there and then, he didn't know what he would do. It would feel like someone had taken something from him, something special, and something he needed so badly that he couldn't even remember what it was.

Something that made him feel incomplete and useless … Elena was the missing part of his black heart and dark soul – she was what he required to complete his evolution into a better man. Thirsty for a taste of Elena, Damon ran his tongue from the base of her neck to the top, then capturing her lips in another enticing kiss, dominating her lips with his own. His hand ran through her disarray locks, gripping at its alluring softness, as his rhythmic grinding motions slowly increased in speed. He was still trying to pull her waistline lower down, but was distracted by the low moans emitting from Elena's throat combined with his ragged gasps of pleasure.

"Elena-" he breathed against her lips, his eyes shut as friction between them sparked. He so badly wanted to feel what was beneath the denim of her jeans, but couldn't gain enough stability to reach it. But, as if by sudden miracle (or so he thought), he'd managed to pull her jeans halfway down her thighs.

Giddy with lust, he trailed his fingers over the new appearance of bare skin, clad with lingerie. His deadened heart was positively thumping.

Elena felt her bambi orbs roll to the back of her head as the intensity of Damon's thrusts seemed to increase significantly; it was as intriguing as it was insanely absurd that during just one clash of lips and after numerous grinds against each of their still-clothed cores, Elena would feel twice (maybe more) of the amount of lust and utter want for this man, in contrast to Stefan of who she had already been sexually intimate with. But it seemed a crime not to persist in the task Elena's soul desired as well as her physical being and although to many the sexual unions of both the elder, sinister Salvatore and the Gilbert golden girl would be a great atrocity... Elena, in her heart of hearts knew that the vaster abomination would be within herself if she did not, in fact, allow herself to bask in all that was Damon Salvatore.

Elena's breathing was far past ragged now, and more in the realms of basic deterioration as she felt his smooth lips plague over her jawline and then migrate their way down to the hollow of her neck; her finger nails scraped eagerly from their positions at his back and knotted into his thick locks once again, holding his face their as a series of moans channelled through her Damon-deprived system. She fidgeted anxiously underneath Damon's sensitive touch, unable to contain the fever of which, like a disease continued the spread through her body and thus, coursed through her veins - supplying a plentiful amount of blood to Elena's arousal. It was to a degree, frightening at the frenzy Damon's hardened manhood had set off within Elena's body due to the utter friction blazing between the two of them...

And as she felt Damon's hands struggle against her jeans, Elena groaned out of voluptuous frustration and her hands soon replaced Damon's at the fabric of her jeans. Due to a rush of adrenaline, coupled with the intoxicatingly high level of lust coursing though her veins, Elena's fingers hooked upon the waist line of her jeans and she shimmied the dark fabric down her legs and momentarily halted her grinding against Damon's centre; her jeans hit the flood with an audible thud, but the second their two cores had spent apart was far too much for Elena's covetousness mind, and body to allow... she tightened the grip her legs possessed upon his waist and she allowed her hips to move in sync with his once again.

"Oh Damon, take me..." she rasped, her nails digging into the flesh of his shoulder blades now as she added, in a softer whisper "Take me now."

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	4. Need You Now

**A/N: We love you guys – okay? And what's more important is the fact, we love Delena too. ^_^ Sorry about the short-comings last chapter, (get it, short-comings? ;). Yeah, 'kay, I'm not funny. :L) any who… Thanks SO much for you reviews and subscriptions and PLEASE keep them coming. And NOW – time for Damon to do some… Coming. MAN, I LOVE THAT PUN. ;D Enjoy. ^^ **

**Chapter 4: Need You Now.  
><strong>  
>Adrenalin seemed to be possessing Damon's body as the intensity between himself and Elena steadily increased. The flame was still burning and demonstrated no signs of going out; he smothered Elena with passionate, heated kisses that he was sure she would not be able to resist, whilst his hands still urgently travelled over every inch of her fully exposed legs. The shape and structure of these sturdy limbs were marvellously crafted - the mere sight of her fantastic lower segment locked securely around his waist sent blood pumping through him at an unstoppable speed.<p>

Nothing could separate the two conjoined flames that they had become, consistently blazing as they moulded together as if perfectly carved to fit one another. Not even a blood-curdling cry for help would part them - it was as if they were numb to the rest of the world; right now, there was nothing that mattered but their smouldering connection that he prayed he would be able to maintain. After all, it was special; not many people were capable of chiselling their way through the solidity of Damon Salvatore's shield. He was crafted of steel in numerous layers that weren't easy to penetrate or wield into something else - he was irrevocable.

Now that Damon had been granted additional access to Elena's core, he pressed himself closer against her, allowing her a greater feel of his own arousal beneath a frustrating supplement of thin, delicate material. His pleasurable grinding commenced as his hands sprung a life of their own; they trailed desperately over every inch of her sumptuous form until finally sliding his hands beneath her shirt and pushing the airy material off of her. He continued to kiss her breathless; hungrily, lustfully. A tight knot was forming in the pit of his stomach as desperation and pure need practically over took him. All that was in the way of their final intimate connection was a pair of jeans and enticing lingerie set …

With one hand, Damon reached towards his belt and fumbled swiftly with it. Within a second, it was un-done, but Damon found himself – once again – ensnared in a passionate distraction.

"Be my distraction …" he whispered out loud against her soft lips. His words were followed by gasping pleas from Elena's perfect mouth; he wanted nothing more than to give her what she wanted. What they both wanted.

With her still hooked around his waist, he wrenched them away from the tomb wall at an inhuman speed and they tumbled to the ground, Elena beneath Damon, both in only their under garments. At some point, Damon had managed to discard the last of his expensive clothing; it lay in a remorseless heap along with the rest of both their outfits.

This wonderful, voluptuous feeling overwhelmed Elena - enticing her in its deadly grip of lust as she fell deeper and deeper into the dark and by far vast, hidden abyss of her long-disguised crave for Damon. It baffled her immensely as contradictions began to plague her mind; how had she allowed herself to resist the way his very touch could set her body a-light? Her said being curled into his body as his hardened manhood merged itself even closer to her own centre - she yelped out of sheer sensual satisfaction and without her mind's consent, Elena's hips ground themselves with almost twice the pressure as before whilst a million shudders rippled through her fragile frame. Her laboured breathing mixed with his own as their tongues continued to tango - traces of his saliva tantalized her taste buds, leaving her wanting more and more. Elena grasped him closer still, not a single millimetre of space between their two now almost-naked bodies.

The hold Elena's legs had formed upon Damon's hips tightened as she felt his smooth games shape and massage their way even further upwards, supporting the both of their weight's as if she were nothing more than a mere feather; and, although Damon was clearly able to handle the mass of the both of them, even a fool would've been able to regard Damon's seemingly severe struggle in suppressing his no doubt, animalistic urges. The repetitive action of which Damon's arousal continued to force upon her barely-clothed centre caused an unusual, nevertheless delightful sensation to amplify significantly at her core. But, before Elena could even ponder furthering their already-passionate encounter, Damon appeared obliged to giving Elena exactly what she seeked; for their bodies' had now, somehow tumbled to the ground, their legs tangled and Damon was as of that moment hovering on top of her.

She took this opportunity, gratefully in order to catch a breath or two and released her lips from the hold they had upon Damon's; her fingers pried themselves away from the tight anchor they'd made in his skin and her nimble digits crept their way towards his face - she exhaled, her hot breath washing over his face as she examined his sweat-sodden complexion. Her lips parted a degree or two as she took him in, for all that he was and for all, she was sure that this truly exquisite creature could be - a light smile painted her lips as she spoke.

"I..." she paused, testing the words out in her head before allowing them to escape from her mouth and to roam freely in the euphoric atmosphere surround them "I love you," she held his beautiful blues for an extra second or two, awaiting his reaction before taking his strong hands and leading them to her underwear.

These few seconds apart from Elena's opulent lips were a gracious chance for Damon – as well as Elena – to regain long lost oxygen. His ragged and heavy breathing were combining with the breathless pants of the woman beneath him. But this short pause didn't force Damon to retract the hand that gripped her hip and the other that cupped her pretty white neck. They held each other's gaze – chocolate on ice – and just looked at one another in awe, as if searching for a well-concealed enigma, perhaps beneath the iris. Damon would never fully understand the beauty in Elena's gaze – a gaze that possessed a clandestine twinkle. He would never properly comprehend that the exquisiteness of it hid so many mysteries he would only want to unveil, so that they could share between them what was confidential to the real world; what would remain that way, too.

And her skin – her remarkable, olive skin that complemented her warm orbs – tied another irrevocable knot in his stomach. It was already clenched tight with harsh bonds that it hurt to inhale – but at the same … It was somewhat pleasurable. It was a congenial pain.

The hunger that enlightened the coldness in Damon's eyes still lingered there. It was a vast preview of the animal caged inside him just waiting to come out, to break free of its iron-strong prison and take control of his currently stable mentality. It watched from behind the blue as Damon and Elena shared a gentler, less urgent moment. The delicate smile upon the human's dusky-rose lips was entrancing – Damon could not look away from it. His own expression resembled that of a young child exploring a new place, starting a new adventure. It was tinted with timid curiosity as he absorbed every perfect feature of Elena's face, every resplendent inch of it. Without even knowing it, she was doing what he wanted. Being what he wanted her to be for him; a distraction from the world, a numbing from reality.

She drew him into a universe of passion and altruism – a place where they shared everything between them without the slightest thought of repentance. And then when those three beautiful words emitted from her lips, his walls came crumbling down. Everything he'd built up to barricade his heart and soul was pulverized into nothing. He opened himself to her, which was what she wanted, letting her guide him along this road he had never really been down. Not even with Katherine.

He couldn't find any words to say in response to her emotions – he desperately searched, but only the same three words would come to mind. It was the only thing he could say that was true. But he couldn't pronounce them steadily.

"I love you too, Elena-" he whispered. His voice was shaking.

Her warm hands gently grasped each of his own and he allowed her to lead them down her body, towards the very last fortification between both their cores.

He was vulnerable - that much was obvious to anyone of who knew Damon as well as Elena did; and Elena was reaching out to him, she was peering into those scorching cobalt eyes and reaching, longing to take the hand of the young, lost boy she could see roaming within the outskirts of his soul. (Yes, Damon did have a soul; how could a creature as remarkable as Damon Salvatore not have a soul?) And finally, she found him and grasped at his hand, seizing control of the puerile metaphor's body and forcing him from the precipice of utter hopelessness and leading him to the road of pure salvation. For, she knew Damon's secret - what his dearest desire was - to be mortal once more. And, despite not possessing the power to make it so, Elena could do one better. The weapon of which she wielded was something so strong, sincere and immovable and she was willing to give every last ounce of it to him... Her love.

Elena noticed Damon's eyes had adopted a different kind of approach to her words - he was... Searching, seeking within her irises for a hidden meaning, and variations of that phrase of which Elena could not pin point exact to name; however, Elena was not prepared for the elder brother's response. His words sent a jolt of electricity throughout her body - creating something so divine, delicate - the delusional aura of pure rose tinted her vision as her eyes widened a degree or two as she suppressed the almost too inevitable action of sheer euphoric joy. Tears. Her soul was weeping, and the windows of her soul were vast for all to peek upon the core of her exultation. She and Damon were twin flames, and they were destined. Elena could acknowledge that now - this was not a time for doubt, nor was it a time for pondering.

The period for both of these agonizing emotions was long belated as was all rational thinking within Elena's mind - she was connected to Damon through mentality; be it stable or negatively the opposed, the invisible chord remained steadfast as it bonded them blissfully. Upon that rather intriguing thought, Elena was whirled back to reality as she felt Damon's firm fingers take hold of her underwear band and slide the said item downward. Elena's own hands allowed themselves to be transported towards Damon's lower half; her hands were curious, but eager as they took hold of the dark fabric and eventually completed the imperative task. The young brunette's eyes never departed from their hold on Damon's as she did so.

"I know," she whispered in a sure, steady breath before moulding each of her palms to each side of Damon's jawline and then continuing "Make love to me, my prince," with that hushed sentence, Elena leant forward and captured his lips with her own; tasting their forever.

Both human and parasite seemed unable to look away from one another as they proceeded to discard remaining items of clothing in a tender fashion. Both were stripped of all layers and exposed to one another, but their eyes didn't waver from their amorous contact. They just gazed at each other with passion laced within their eyes; an undying passion to be right where they were then; tangled in one another's embrace. Damon allowed Elena to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. He responded imperceptibly, motioning his lips nimbly against hers, tasting and inhaling her delicate aroma. It was a deranged thought, but there was no other place Damon wanted to be. His view of the tomb had changed within the past few moments where he had been ensnared in a passionate pirouette with Elena – nothing but her had filled his senses. Everything about her tempted him, teased him, and destroyed him. He wasn't acting as his usual self; he was not dangerous, cynical, guarded and protected.

He was graceful, open, loving and admirably dominant. The walls had gone, the steel melted – his humanity had temporarily returned; Elena had freed him from the prison inside his soul.

As the kiss grew more potent and the flame between them blazed brighter, Damon drew his body closer to Elena's, savouring the heat their bodies shared, before poising his arousal above her centre. A moment's hesitation passed as he readied himself for the final step. Then he took it, but carefully. He gently slid inside her, his heart missing a beat as if he was falling a hundred feet per second, and began to rhythmically thrust. His previously steadied breathing hitched in his throat and he gasped almost silently against their kiss. The sensation was incredible. It felt right for them to be so intimate; it felt perfect. Nothing had ever had this bitter-sweet effect on Damon. Nothing had ever been powerful enough.

He now knew what Elena was proficient of and made a mental note not to underestimate her in the future. All fears of revealing his inner human-like self to Elena had fled, perhaps cowering warily in the shadows of the dark tomb. The only light that streamed in was that of the feeble moon, eerily casting its glow upon the intertwined couple whom were amidst a sensual atmosphere.

Damon desired nothing more than this; to have this sort of connection with Elena. The idea of finally having her was crazy, but he couldn't help but think it over and over in his brain as he continued to methodically push inside of her, their lips still connected in a deep, meaningful kiss.

Their joint osculate started off slow, tender as their two sets of lips brushed in synchronization with one another's; the most sweetest, most innocent love combined with the darkest and most potent desire was the mixture of which both Elena and Damon were freely allowing to roam so carelessly - the implications of their current actions as well as what they were no doubt about to undergo were something Elena refused to allow bother her. For, she had no need in which to decipher in how to go about this rapidly unfolding situation, because, truthfully - Elena had come to the conclusion of their night together the split second she'd engulfed herself into the passionate fire of lust between the two of them. Damon and Elena were platonic, there was no other way in which to acknowledge the pair as; as if confirming this, when he moved, Elena followed - enveloping herself within his powerful, braced arms and closing her eyes dreamily.

And, despite Damon's no doubt imperceptible beginning, as their kiss progressed from the seconds, and now regarding the minutes - the lascivious nature of both Damon and Elena once again became evident. Elena's palms smoothed themselves upwards from their hold upon his defined cheek bones and began roaming through his dark locks as she anchored his face to her own. One thousand frenzies began knotting themselves together inside of Elena's stomach in utter anticipation as her body prepared itself for the sensual sensations Damon's body would soon unleash upon Elena's own; the readjustment of his lower half and the tip of his naked member brushing against the outside of her entrance only caused Elena to writhe with inner delight in the promise of what she was about to endure.

She knew in her heart, and in her head that this experience of ecstasy would be unlike any other; despite this, her mind was misplacing one crucial detail of which was no doubt imperative regarding both parties. Yet, thoroughly drowning in the sea of her desire for Damon, Elena could think of nothing else... The penetration of his arousal into her own and the unbreakable brace of his arms around her were the only exceptions; Elena's hips buckled the second he merged himself into her walls and she let escape a tiny yelp of pleasure before beginning to gyrate her hips at a similar pace to his own. Pimples decorated her surface and hot chills roamed beneath as her nimble digits. They unthreaded from his hair and raked themselves avidly down the flesh at his back; she bit down upon his lower lip before groaning out loud.

"Damon... Oh ... Yes!" one of her more audible moans echoed.

Damon was drowning in intoxicating pleasure, tremors shooting through him at every evocative thrust, his desire for the woman beneath him increasing to overwhelming levels. He held onto Elena tightly, his pleasure-drenched gasps and moans blending with her own cries of satisfaction. Though his eyes were closed against the intimate and sensual connection they had been fighting to complete all this time, he could picture the expression on Elena's face – he wore a similar one himself. His lips were parted as ragged breaths emitted from them, still lustfully moulded with the perfect shape of Elena's. He couldn't hold back the continuous grunts that escaped him. His lips finally left Elena's and instead he buried his face in the hair that tumbled over her shoulders. He seductively kissed and licked the skin at the base of her neck, feeling the rush of blood in the veins that twisted there. But he didn't bite; he didn't need to.

He had enough of Elena to ravish without the warm, coppery taste of her blood. There was enough of her beneath him to take, squirming in need and desire as he gave to her what she'd been craving. What they'd both been craving.

His thrusts accelerated as he kissed his way down her shoulder to the area just above her breast bone. The skin was soft there and vulnerable to his touch. He relished in the consistency of it, just like he relished in everything else about her. Everything was so perfect, so remarkable, so un-like Katherine. The physical resemblance between Katherine and Elena was uncanny, but the mental, emotional and verbal resemblance was not at all alike. Elena had so many traits that Katherine would've done better with – kindness, altruism, a mind and significance for others. Katherine was just the definition of bitch with an angel's appearance.

"Oh …" gasped Damon, as he willed his penetration deeper.

Elena's nails scraping through his hair down his back increased the pleasure that washed over him, the pure bliss that this moment was turning out to be, "Oh, my Elena-" he moaned against the skin of her midriff.

He gripped tighter onto her, his trail of kisses down her body gaining a higher measure of lust. Nothing would ever, ever make Damon want to stop in his actions. It was all just blissful and too precious to cut short. He'd kill for it to be this way forever. Just him and his princess.

"Damon, oh god! Yes-yes.." Elena's voice choked at the constant covetous thrusts of his hips against her own; it was like nothing Elena had ever experienced before, and no doubt would be unreal table to any other type of sexual pleasure.

The reason solely being due to the voluptuous fire coursing through every one of her veins, urging her half of the joint flame onward. It was unique. He was unique. All sense of logic had simply diminished from the brunette's being, as Elena's both mind and body combined found itself liquored on the seemingly un-ceasing lust for this man, this impeccable creature. And, during an undocumented amount of time, Elena was unable to establish just when exactly her body ended and the flawless lines of Damon's began; each sets of their breathing co-inside as did their battling lower halves - whilst Elena enveloped and indulged in the sheer sensual delight of it all.

The desist of Damon's lips against Elena's pouted own came indeed as surprise to the young girl, although a part of Elena was grateful for the halt of kisses; Elena's heart was pounding hard in her chest, consistently thrusting itself, like an animal, trapped within the ribcage of its own protective barrier. But Elena didn't want to be protected from anything regarding Damon Salvatore in any shape or form; she wanted to offer him her all, and in return - receive the immortal's immaculate ravishing of her being. For eternity... His mouth was at her neck now, planting ravenous kisses there before pioneering them in a deranged drag across the sweat-speckled skin at her chest. Elena's back arched even more so than before as her fingers anchored themselves into his sides; she let escape a wail of excelled satisfaction whilst her hips vigorously upped the tempo along with Damon's.

"Da-Damon! That's it, yes!" Elena laboured, her eyes flicking to an open and a close constantly.

In a desperate attempt in order to release the inevitably increasing pleasure, of which both Damon's mouth and member abided by exhorting upon the gasping girl, Elena's right leg raised and hooked itself securely around his hips; at this new angle, Elena found herself suppressing an even vaster urge in which to scream his name to the heavens; however, due this intoxicating sin, the only location able of hearing her lascivious-fuelled call, she was sure, was that of the confines of hell. But as the plaguing path of Damon's taunting kisses continued to migrate southward, Elena's will was forced to subside as she accepted her fate.

Heaven or hell - what did it matter? Elena belonged to this creature of the night, just as he, in turn was hers.

"I will love you for eternity," a desire-delusional Elena promised in an imperative whisper.

Something ignited inside Damon, causing an explosion of heat in his very soul and within the pit of his stomach. The sensation of Elena's radiant body beneath his own enlivened him, dismissing his volatility with perpetual thrusts between Elena's thighs. Pure ardour detonated through Damon like a livid inferno, attacking each and every vein that pumped blood that wasn't his. He gripped hold of her back as she arched against him and grasped his waist with her dainty yet somehow ravenous fingers. He remembered how they had heatedly worked their way down his back and through his shocking black hair; he could still feel the hot trails on his skin where her fingernails had scraped at his flesh in sheer pleasure.

The capacity of his groans had increased at every push inside Elena, a delightfully breath-taking tension knotting inside his stomach as his hips gyrated against her own responding curves. Elena's passionate cries and intimate movements seemed to egg him on. The wrapping of her leg around his waist granted him further access to Elena's core, and his penetration plunged deeper and faster, increasing how thrilling and enticing this moment was.

Damon wanted nothing more than to remain this way whilst sharing his indispensible feelings for her with her. He just wanted to revel in the sight of her beneath him, relish in the sweet aroma she possessed and savour the sound of her voice as it gasped, yelped and cried his name melodically. Everything about her was a poison – an addictive one at that. There was nothing he wanted to do other than prove his love for her in the most affectionate way possible. He trailed his tongue and teeth over nearly every inch of bare skin visible to him, hoping that, somehow, she would apprehend his desire for her.

He slipped his hand across her sweat-beaded skin and slid it voraciously up her thigh, gripping the toned limb in a predatory manner. His grinding against her core gradually quickened and intensified as a burning desire – hotter than any other – coursed through him, developing his breathing into hoarse and husky gasps. After an uncountable amount of time granting Elena her wishes, it was coming to an end as the knot in his stomach tightened and tightened until he was struggling to prolong the rhythm of his hips conjoined with hers. Before the passionate embrace seized, he caught Elena's lips in yet another devouring kiss.

"As will I love you as long as our hearts beat-" he whispered against her lips, his eyes shut tight. One last thrust was all he could manage before the climax finally intervened. Fluid pulsed from his arousal and his back went ridged, satisfactory gasps escaping him as the knot inside him slowly began to loosen.

He held himself atop Elena, their bodies still as close as two bodies could get, his lips parted and pressed against a place beneath her lips. All of a sudden, he felt drained, but the mere thought of Elena in his arms pumped a little extra strength into his muscles. He held her close to him for a moment, both arms resuming their place around her back, fists clenched as, at long last, the heat mellowed down to a simmer.

The passion had finally reached its climax, but a hint of longing still seemed to linger in the air. Damon could sense it easily as he gazed up at the stone ceiling of the tomb, which he had begun to feel accustomed to. The dark, cold walls that caved in on them seemed much less daunting than before, and the unearthly smell that had polluted the oxygen available to them now seemed barely noticeable. He doubted that Elena had been able to notify the macabre aroma at all – he supposed that, to human senses, it wasn't particularly strong.

The cloud of lust of which remained looming over the entangled couple was seriously taking its toll upon Elena as iron fists continued to knot inside her stomach, causing the frenzy of already heightened sensual emotion to an even greater height. And in all honesty - Elena wasn't certain if her body could continue to control the way his own, tactful one empowered it. The seemingly limitless pleasure lingered within the air around the two of them as well as rushing through every single vein in her breathless body; her hips grinded and gyrated in synchronization with his own, somehow managing to match his pace - whilst noting the incoming kisses of his slowly migrating mouth back towards the path to her lips. Electrical impulses continuously tripped the line of her synapses, causing Elena's involuntary shudders to increase both in number as well as intensity as they continued to make love.

Firm fingers gripped at her waist and Elena helped with pure delight, loving the rather animalistic approach Damon was now proclaiming, as they no doubt neared the most imperative stage of their sexual union; the inevitable moment was nigh at hand and despite the inner regret Elena felt, and the slight self-loathing in regards to her self-control ceasing... Combing this fact with the elating, lascivious fuel flowing through her veins, Elena subsided to the conclusion she would soon have to succumb to her ultimate climax and end the prolonged pleasure Damon only too willing exhorted upon her fragile frame. It was upon that, aesthetically pleasing thought that Elena felt his hips buck and strain against her own.

The intervene of his impending orgasm was the last ounce of sensational bliss needed in which for Elena, too, to reach her goal of utter ecstasy; Elena's inner walls constricted around his member and with a shrill call of the immortal's name, Elena released, thus lubricating Damon's still-pulsing manhood. Her chest inflated and deflated numerous times before Elena was able to gain even the smallest amount of control over her over-used muscles; when the act became applicable, Elena's nails gently plucked themselves from their dent within his skin and she allowed her arms to fold and constrict lightly around his torso, holding him close and laying her head to rest in the hollow of his neck. Her breath washed lovingly over his dampened skin as she shifted herself in his arms, causing Damon's back to now press against the floor; still connected southward, Elena nuzzled herself into his side and smiled.

She puckered her lips and left one single kiss upon the skin of his chest and averted her eyes upwards; she stared, no, gazed, towards his burning blue orbs and allowed her hand to rest on his front.

"Be mine... for always?"


	5. Home of My Heart

**A/N: Hey guys; It's been a few days since we updated – sorry 'bout that! But we've both been uber busy. But, fear not! Here's the next segment of the story for you. 'Tis generally a bittersweet chapter, with a slight cliffy at the end. (We love our cliffys if you haven't realized already. ;)) But once again – thank you for your reviews and subscriptions and hey, keep 'em coming! MUCH LOVE! **

**Chapter 5: The Home of My Heart. **

The ground was rough on his back, but he barely perceived it. The warmth of Elena's body next to his distracted him from everything negative about their captivity. He glanced sideways at her as she burrowed herself against him – she was so staggeringly beautiful that just looking at her made his insides melt. Everything about her was undyingly flawless to him, much alike the delicate petals of a freshly picked rose. He doubted that she would agree with his compliments, but it was only the truth. There was nothing more perfect in the world than Elena Gilbert. Damon held Elena close to him, one arm still around her waist and the other draped lazily across his stomach.

There was a languid glint in his eyes as they fluttered back up to the obscured ceiling, his mind saturated with thoughts of the girl in his arms, nestling against his side, her warm, sweet breath grazing his rapidly rising and falling torso. He stroked the skin at the curve of her lower back with his index finger, exhaling deeply at the light touch of Elena's lips upon his own moist skin. As she retracted her pout, he could still feel a tingling there, where her kiss had landed …

He couldn't contemplate how much he loved her, how much she had always meant to him.

Upon their first meeting, Damon had been taken to Elena, his feelings for her growing and growing as each day went by, reaching a point where they were so real that it was agonising, torturing him slowly and painfully. It hurt, seeing her with Stefan, because he knew he couldn't have her. He didn't deserve her. She was too sweet, too gentle for a monster like him. Stefan, the good brother, was right for her, as much as he envied his younger sibling. He had everything Damon couldn't have, and that very thought sent a knife through the many steel layers encasing his heart, before piercing the organ beneath all the protection. But now, she'd succumbed to him willingly, allowed him to take what she offered with lust-filled eyes. It was then, in the tomb, in their prison, that he knew he truly loved her. More than he had ever loved anyone. He had not let his feelings surface until now. And now there was no going back.

He'd expressed his love for her and she had, surprisingly, done the same. They were caught in the same bubble – a bubble meant for just two people – trapped in it forever. He couldn't believe he finally had Elena in his arms, snuggling against him, gazing up at him dazedly, lovingly, longingly. He just wanted to lie like this forever, embraced with her, never being disturbed, never having to worry about reality, about anything but their desire for one another. It was his idea of heaven – it would be the only time he would experience a metaphorical version of it, for he was sure he was going to hell for this. But he didn't care. He cared about nothing, right now, other than Elena. Only Elena.

"Always," Damon murmured. He placed a tender kiss to the top of her head, whilst breathing in the tantalizing aroma of her luscious chocolate locks. Only Elena, his thoughts repeated, a fading echo in his mind.

Elena's body mellowed into Damon's with such precision and accuracy, it was as if her body had been specially modified in which to compliment his own; their legs still entwined and their centres still connected, Elena allowed her finger tips to gently trace the perfect planes of his chest - she allowed her nimble digit to roam aimlessly, endlessly over his smooth complexion; Elena was fascinated by his god-like physique. She chided herself harshly, somehow hoping her rebuking of her mind would somehow event to replacing the rash thrashes and insults Elena had fired all too hastily towards the elder Salvatore over the numerous times together. But not a single one could compare even the smallest degree to the one of which she was sharing with Damon at this moment in time. It was as if time had stopped completely, as if it was only Damon and Elena inhabiting within the planet - they were one.

Elena knew that now, and although this segment of time, be it small, or be it never-ending, Elena would programme it into her memory and replay these moments continually - praying for a second shot, a chance in which she would be able to once again allow herself to feel these feelings; the brunette was hiding nothing - how could she when she had given the irreplaceable immortal her all? It was at that one, single word, so powerful; it struck everything, with exception to Elena's heartbeat to a still - always. Always, always... The mortal peered upwards, catching Damon's overwhelming, smouldering gaze and knew she could no longer suppress the persistent pang within her soul - the weeping angel of which cried tears of joy, had become far too unyielding for Elena to deny any longer.

Wielding, once again, the only weapon of which Elena knew would guarantee victory - thus ending in freedom for both herself and Damon; the sheer immovable, irrevocable power of love. The build-up of clear liquid within the rims of Elena's eyes usually would cause a stinging sensation within her orbs, but, as she previously predicted - the feeling harmed her not. And, upon the influence of utter euphoric joy, tears began streaming their forecast paths down her cheeks and dripped daintily upon his toned torso. She agilely raised her hips, thus allowing his member to slip from its fix within her inner walls and gently graced her hips' presence upon his lower abdomen. Her palms massaged their way towards his face, cupping it and smiling through the thick veil of still-accumulating tears.

Her sobs were silent, the only evidence she was even doing so were the clear droplets continuously splattering soundlessly onto Damon's skin. She inhaled before leaning down to his face and placing a single kiss upon his cool lips.

"Just hold me," she breathed, her words mixing in wonderfully with the adoring aroma filtering through the air as her lips travelled across his jawline, down into the hollow of his neck and then began plaguing his chest; she repeated this circuit several times, never once wavering in her loving, longing gesture whilst her tongue occasionally offered its willing assistance.

Minutes must've passed before Elena's mouth returned to Damon's - and when the time came, she kissed him, hungrily, desperately and zealously. Hours ticked by, days, Elena would've said if she didn't know better and Elena, in the confines of Damon's arms... Always his arms, succumbed to her subconscious.

Damon was in another world; a world that possessed only the emotions additional to the sensations of love. It was a perfect world, carved and crafted from only the finest of things a man could feel – created solely for both vampire and human whom were elaborately embraced upon the floor of the tomb, engrossing each other's body heat. There was no other place Damon wanted to be, despite the fact that they were trapped in a vampire prison. He would not have cared if they were laying someplace worse – a damp and desolate dungeon, for example – just as long as he had Elena close to him, her overwhelmingly dazzling scent protruding from her lenient form, tickling the sensors at the tip of his nose.

His face was still buried within the luxurious mass of deep, chocolate brown that tumbled over Elena's shoulders. He breathed deeply; unable to contain the fulfilment he felt upon the idea of them both being alone together in such a sensual, pleasurable manner.

He placed another benevolent kiss to the top of her head, before withdrawing reluctantly, his gaze once again upon the despondent ceiling. He imagined there to be stars there – thousands of winking, glittering stars – sparkling above them, overlooking them in their own universe of all things that a man like Damon himself desired. Not many knew of his deepest darkest secrets, but this was one of them; to be human again and to be able to feel this way about somebody without the risk of temptation getting too much. He wanted to love somebody without taking their blood, without depriving them of the crimson life that flowed inside them. Risk was a thrill, certainly, but in circumstances such as this … It just wasn't needed. It wasn't wanted.

Damon sneaked another glance down at Elena and made to retract his icy gaze and lift it to the ceiling for a third time, but before he could, something caught his eye; something that glistened beneath the feeble rays of light that emitted from the moon as its glow poured relentlessly through the crack in the tomb's wall; a tear, trickling mutely down Elena's smooth cheek, flawing the skin with a subtle trail of watery substance. This sudden expression of melancholy shocked Damon, and he raised his head off the ground in preparation to sit her up and interrogate her. Concern filtered through every part of his previously tranquil facial posture, until his eyes came to rest upon the miniscule smile that graced her lips with its elegant presence; these were not tears of sadness, or of guilt or of regret that tumbled silently down her cheeks – they were tears of pure joy, happiness and elation. The mere visual of that timid smile upon her mouth awoke something within him – something warm and inviting.

Damon lifted a finger to gently wipe the droplets from her cheeks.

He wanted to just savour it, the coolness of it gentle on his face, but Elena had closed the gap between their lips, obliterating the passage between them with a single kiss. Though it only lasted a second or two, to Damon it just lingered there, tingling potently, as if he'd been burnt by heady rays from the sun. He did as she said, wrapping his arms tighter around her in a comforting embrace. He just held her, as requested, not loosening his grasp or letting go. Damon couldn't help but recline his neck as Elena graced his jaw line with assertive kisses, pursuing them down the bridge between his neck and shoulder blade then across the rest of his well-structured build. It seemed to go on for a long time, much to Damon's solace. It was mesmerising bliss, the way her tender lips kissed their way over his body, forcing a succouring sigh from his throat, until meeting his parted lips again and ensnaring him in a dominating kiss drenched with poverty.

He responded just as enthusiastically, meshing his lips with the faultless formation of hers. It seemed hours later that Elena finally drifted off in his arms, her lids fluttering over the soothing elegance of her eyes. For a few moments, he watched her. Just watched as her chest rose and fell steadily and as light puffs of air escaped her lips. It was then Damon's turn to fall away from reality and instead into a peaceful abyss full of nothing but gracious darkness.

Elena's dreams were musky, hazy and no doubt dusky, but as the images, flashes of memories entwined with a collage of the scenes of their night together moulded themselves into the disarray of Elena's subconscious thought processes' seemingly perfectly. Elena's mind, whilst she allowed her conscious mind to rule her being was drained, as was her body from the high-energy usage of which had occurred earlier that day. However, Elena found the exact opposite reaction within her mind; she wandered the land of her dreams for hours on end, constantly engaging with thoughts of the elder Salvatore as she rendezvoused with the man of which, in just one night had stolen her heart - her entire soul. Two twin flames of which had finally ignited the fires of scorching passion of which coursed through each set of their veins to form one immaculate - divine chemical reaction.

Had Elena's mind still been discarding and rather puerile, she would've cast the blame upon magic and curses; although, Elena's mind set was no longer allowing itself to process those insignificant suspicions. For, if Elena were to forsake both what she felt for Damon, as well as rejecting him, in himself then she would be forsaking herself; and, heaven only knows the period of time Elena would be able to sustain without craving Damon's tentative touch once again. He was a craving, a newly evoked craving at that - and Elena was relishing within it. It was absurdly wonderful, in a way how the immortal seemed to plague the meadows of her ever-wandering subconscious, tempting her into tasting hidden delights at every opportunity possible, and also, whilst she was awake, the alluring Salvatore matched Elena's mental perception of him almost to exact precision.

Unbeknown to the brunette beauty, during her time of sleeping she had fidgeted several times and murmured many a sweet nothing into the movement-absent air whilst she continued to sleep, completely oblivious to all that was around her. Her right leg was wedged almost delicately in between the both of Damon's as her other neatly curled around his hips; using the support of Damon's steadfast hold, Elena managed to remain hooked onto Damon's side for the entire night as her head borrowed Damon's toned torso for a pillow. The young lovers, to the outside world would've appeared just that - young lovers, two sleeping angels finally basking in all that their love was, and praying silently, and hoping for all that it ever could be. The night seemed to pass the both of them by fairly blissfully, and for Elena - there was no question about that fact as her tiny chest continued to in-flate and de-flate calmly.

However, the dreaded 'morning after' reared its ugly, and no doubt unwanted head far too early and Elena found herself beginning to stir a lot sooner than she first expected, due to the prior night's intensely intimate events. Her eyes lids fluttered hesitantly, like a butterfly's wings daring to take its first flight into the unknown as she felt the fresh, warm breeze of the spring morning fill the tomb; at last, her eyes finally opened fully and Elena dragged herself to a half-sitting and a half-leaning position before averting her eyes downward and to a still-sleeping Damon. Her brown barely-awake bambi's gazed in awe at the million beams of light shining onto the immortal's face, vividly highlighting his defined cheekbones as well as those perfectly pouted lips; lips that she'd kissed...

And, despite a small segment of her soul wishing she could merely remain mesmerized by his beauty and stare for time and all eternity... The ancient saying of which she knew only all-too well began ringing in her ears: 'No rest for the wicked'. She chuckled inwardly at the thought of it; no rest for the wicked indeed. So, taking her right hand and gently caressing his smooth cheek, Elena leant down and whispered into his ear.

"Awake, my prince," she breathed, somehow knowing he would hear her.

Damon's sleep was full of nothing but a black haze that remained almost constant through his resting. Every so often, it flashed a different colour, but immediately darkened to ebony again, often resembling a mist settling at twilight. It was almost silent amidst his subconscious, except for the reverberations of somebody breathing and delicate whispers echoing off the walls of his mind. The dream persona, however, seemed unable to put a finger on which of these sounds belonged to who. It was so blatant that it was too blatant, and the obviousness of it all had been overlooked .That simple fact infuriated the dream persona; the imaginary Damon.

The black and grey fog began to lift and instantly, his mind felt clearer. Dream Damon looked around, and found that he was in a forest, yet not one he recognised from sight. From scent, however, yes … But he could've sworn he'd never visited it before. It smelt bad, though.

Like it'd been desolate for countless years, left to rot in the way nature did. Despite it being too dark to see distinctly, Damon could tell that this place had been neglected. But it had been neglected purposely and not just out of idiotic forgetfulness. Someone had committed their life to destroying this place willingly and without remorse. Damon frowned, but continued onwards through the forest, stepping over dead twigs and soggy leaves, dodging past sharp and protruding branches that were at the perfect height to poke his eye out. A fluid movement of his arm snapped most of the twigs, but as he ventured deeper into the forest, the mass of dreary greenery and pointed wood just seemed to increase and his ability to deflect most of the ominous edges was vaporising. What the hell was going on? He was a hundred times stronger than this … This wasn't Damon, this wasn't him. He'd never in his life felt so weak and ridiculous.

"Let me in …" There it was; the whisper – but clearer this time, more defined. Damon halted, a hand pressed against a nearby tree trunk, one foot above the ground in mid-step. What was that …? A woman? He strained his ears for the voice again. It came, erupting through timid gaps in the trees, clearer than last time.

"Let me in, Damon …"

He recognised that voice. He knew that voice and he knew it well.

Dream Damon began to run, sprinting at inhuman speed through the forest, disregarding the whipping of branches against his face, not caring of the blood that seeped from freshly cut wounds on his cheeks and bare arms. The warm liquid that trickled down his complexion, flawing its previously perfect paleness, was the least of his worries. In fact, he had no worries at all. He knew where he was going, where he was headed, and who would be waiting for him when he got there.

He could see the sky now, as he looked up – a mystical, cerulean blue scattered with patches of fluffy white. He stopped running and stood dead centre of the clearing, facing north. Beyond the rows and clusters of trees that surrounded him, there sat a meadow crafted from plush green and spring-yellow. It looked open and inviting. But that wasn't the only thing luring him in. He seemed unaware of his hesitant edging towards the forests exit, closer to the luscious meadow, closer to what he had been running to …

Damon's eyes fluttered open. Something warm was caressing his face. Fingers; nimble, dainty fingers. He looked up from the dirt-strewn ground and into Elena's eyes – perfect, brown orbs full of fresh morning beauty. He reached up to grasp the hand at his cheek and intertwined his fingers with hers, staring at their united hands in wonderment. Then, with mild effort, he lifted himself into a sitting position, his gaze never wavering from their physical connection.

Elena's skin was radiant beneath the feeble sun that drifted into the tomb, the air that graced them of a light, spring consistency. He inhaled it and then placed a tender kiss to the back of Elena's hand.

It was then that his dream came flooding back to him. But he couldn't riddle it out.

The texture of his skin beneath her fingers was that of a cross between the most valuable marble, and the smoothest of satin; her finger tips tingled as they continued to stroke themselves across the skin at the vampire's cheek; never had Elena seen Damon so utterly vulnerable and child-like than this moment she was experiencing. For what seemed like one, endless instant - Damon was no longer a damned creature of the night, forced to roam forever in the dismal depths of darkness - he was an immortal avenging angel - with every instinct to thrive within light. Her brown orbs drifted from their gaze towards his flawless face and slowly began trailing down his chest before, as if by instinct, Elena felt Damon's body flinch against her own and flickered her eyes north-ward, catching his sleepy stare.

The young brunette held back a gleeful gasp at the powerful influence those blue-fire eyes seemed to have on her; it was as if the simple action caused the immortal to look into the very core of her soul - she couldn't imagine a feeling more welcoming, more euphoric than what was flowing through her being at this present second; her own eyes were in awe, observing the action of his hand taking her own and threading their fingers together. Her nimble digits squeezed his firm fingers, maintaining the lock Damon had set before sighing a strange sigh. Each side of Elena's lips kinked ever so slightly, causing a dainty smile to paint across her mouth. As an unspoken gesture of affection, Elena caressed the base of her thumb over Damon's shimmering lapis lazuli ring - still steadfast in protecting the vampire from the obliteration of the sun's radiating rays.

An unwanted thought crept into her head and cautiously implanting an image into her mind, causing a small frown to fall across her face; what if Damon hadn't the ring..? How an earth would Elena be able to continue existing if Damon were struck to ashes and ceased to be..? She cast that envision away, banishing it, so that it were forbidden to corrupt this perfect moment both Damon and Elena had sculptured ever again. Satisfying her mind with something far more joyful; Elena allowed an angelic chuckle to pass her lips, a highlight of rose rushing to fill her olive-toned cheeks as the brush of his mouth made itself known on her skin.

"You seem in a rather satisfied mood; did you sleep well?" Elena murmured, the hand of which wasn't currently locked in Damon's took his face as she climbed over his body, resting lightly.

Elena's eyes were a-light with animation as she continued to indulge in this most precious type of pleasure - pure, euphoric love. Her left hand began massaging itself down Damon's body, feeling the seemingly constant elevation of his chest as she lowered her hour-glass figure down to his own, as her legs easily fitted themselves around his hips. Her head cocked a degree as she spoke once more, a playful edge to her tone.

"And even if your dreams were not pleasant... That doesn't mean I can't make your reality slightly more bearable," she teased in a gently hush before placing her lips upon his own and kissing him tentatively; one hand still connected with his own and the other roaming over his chest "Better?" she added against his lips as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, deepening their osculate.

Damon couldn't believe what he was waking up to. Never had he felt so alive in the early hours of the morning, so ready to take on anything that came his way. Waking up to the radiant face of Elena Gilbert was just a dream come true, a desire finally granted.

Damon shifted in his sitting position; bland reveries from his unconscious daydream fluttered in and out of his mind, but he couldn't make any sense of them. A dark forest, a faint whispering, then a lush meadow … None of it added up. But it didn't matter now. It was over, he was awake and he was with Elena. Damon's heart skipped a beat as his crystal-blue eyes came to rest upon the delicate smile that graced Elena's lips, lighting up her face with a sort of translucent shimmer. God, she was beautiful; so beautiful that it was devastating - just looking at her sent fresh vivacity pumping through the veins that propelled crimson rivers of stolen blood through his body.

"I have every reason to be satisfied," said Damon, a smile of his own caressing his lips, "Why wouldn't I be, when I'm with you?"

He savoured in the feeling of her warm palm against his cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch, inhaling deeply as she mounted his angled form, her toned legs either side of his own. He leant back on his free elbow, his eyes raking over Elena's flawless body as she worked a hand up and down his masculine build, and then locked her legs around his hips securely. As she leant in to coax his body with her own, he ran the hand that wasn't embraced in hers up her thigh, provisionally drawing his fingers up the efficient curve of her hip, up her arm and then curled his fingers around the back of her neck, pulling her closer as their lips met in a bittersweet kiss – a kiss that made his stomach churn. He gripped her hand tighter as he parted his lips to allow her tongue access, whilst slipping his own between her soft lips.

"Much better," Damon whispered into the kiss, his impish smirk still in place. Then, with a fluid gyration of his hips, they'd switched positions. Damon now roamed above Elena, the fingers of one hand locked between hers, pinning it to the ground above her head. His free hand traced intricate and complicating patterns up and down her hip and across her toned stomach, the kiss growing more potent by the second.

Just as Damon drew away from Elena's lips to place tentative kisses down her jaw line to her collar bone, he was forced to stop dead. He hovered above Elena, creating the smallest of gaps between their bodies, but did not move. He was as still as a predator stalking its prey, listening to the tiniest and most insubstantial sounds of his surroundings.

"Shh-" he whispered to Elena, placing a finger to her lips. He turned his head to face the entrance of the tomb – mild sun filtered through the gap in the rock, lighting up a square metre of their prison.

He could hear something, at least a mile way. Footsteps? A distant calling? He strained his ears, searching for more indistinct sounds, trying hard to figure out who this oncoming person was. And then it hit him. He recognised the magical aura that often acted as a human's protective boundary, but this one was enhanced with something brighter, something stronger. A mischievous smile lingered upon Damon's lips, as he turned back to face Elena, strewn beneath him.

"Bonnie's coming."

Damon was on his feet in a blur.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	6. Careless Whispers

**A/N: Hey-ho. ;D It's Jackie and Steph, here again to send you another chapter of the story. Firstly, we'd once again like to thank all of you for your support and reviews. (Seriously guys, your reviews mean soo much to us!) So, again, we ask you keep reading and reviewing and we'll do our job, which is writing. Also, all suggestions for future chapters/guesses are welcomed. ;D Enjoy!**

**Chapter 6: Careless Whispers.**

A strange sound escaped Elena's lips upon hearing his hushed reply - a puerile giggle. Her teeth bit down lightly into Damon's bottom lips; she continued to smooth her palm over Damon's chest, basking in their kiss whilst granting herself to a vast knowledge of his well-toned torso. Her tongue lingered within the confines of Damon's mouth, rolling over and tangoing with his own as soft whimpers of pleasure escaped the brunette's mouth, as their kiss began to become more intimate than perhaps Elena had first intended it to evolve to. Despite the surprise, Elena was not, by any means displeased and nor was she intent on pausing their soon-to-be steamy session anytime soon.

The skin at Elena's thigh pricked as goose pimples decorated the skin there, continuing to infest every contour of skin in which Damon's hand shaped over; the way he made her soul rejoice in such an euphoric manner, coupled with the defined ability Damon seemed to possess in regards to heightening every single sense in her body - was truly an experience Elena would not soon forget, nor would she suddenly stop craving. Elena's centre hesitantly hovered over Damon's own - tracing the tip of his manhood occasionally, as she teased its final destination whilst moving her lip constantly and in utter synchronization with Damon's. But, at his latter statement, Elena had next to no time in which to react before she found herself suddenly underneath the immortal, his mouth soon beginning to migrate southward.

Once again, the unsatisfiable cloud of lust soon encapsulated both Elena and Damon, causing the lascivious emotion to loom over the both of them; his kisses became more potent and increased in speed as Elena became utterly overcome with sheer desire. Her previously roaming hand fixed at his hip as her other remained locked in position against Damon's whilst her moans channelled through her body - wanting him more and more, again and again. However, her pleasurable paradise was short-lived as she soon felt Damon flinch against her and evidently pull back.

"What's wrong?" she whispered a gasp, before hearing Damon's new found knowledge; her eyes widened a degree or two before her eyes darted around the tomb, searching for scraps of clothing torn off of her being from the night prior; grabbing at her underwear, she dragged the fabric up the length of her slender legs before searching for her shirt "How far away is she?" Elena asked, the feeling of anxiety bubbling inside of her.

"A little less than a mile," informed Damon leniently, as his eyes raked over every inch of this specific section of the tomb in search of particular wearable garments dotted around the area.

It was a frantic rush in those few moments that it took Damon to find all items of clothing scattered across the tomb's floor. He found his jeans with no trouble, and tugged them on after pulling up his underwear, buckling his belt with fumbling fingers. He located his black shirt a few steps away, but discerned the fact that it was twisted loosely with something red; Elena's shirt. The two colours meshing together effortlessly were endearingly handsome. After a hasty glance at Elena over his shoulder, Damon scooped up both bits of specially shaped fabric and separated them; black dangling from one hand and red from the other. He then buried the red one in his trouser pocket, slipping the black onto his own flat-muscled build but left it unbuttoned.

He spun on his heel to face Elena, the notoriously playful smirk still prominent upon his lips. He sauntered over to her, slowly and deliberately, his eyes on the wonderfully bare section of her midriff; athletic Elena certainly knew how to take care of her body – it was in times such as this that it paid off.

Damon bent down to pick up Elena's jeans as she continued to hunt for her shirt – little did she know that it was buried within the confines of his pocket; Damon suppressed a snigger. Instead, he handed her jeans over. Of course, a tentative touch didn't go amiss; at her rear, Damon laid his hands upon her bare shoulders, before dragging them up and down the smooth structure of her arms, all the while placing teasing kisses to bridge between her neck and her collarbone. Apparently, the fact that Bonnie was mere metres away had escaped his mind, replaced only by thoughts of ways to distract Elena from making herself look innocent.

He cared not for getting caught – he just wanted to hear those pleasurable giggles erupt from Elena's lips again. He couldn't help but grin at them.

"You're even more beautiful when you're anxious," Damon remarked cheekily.

It was a cheap shot, but that was Damon; flattering and undyingly charming even in the most risky of situations. Damon looped his arms around Elena's tiny waist and pulled her close to him, squeezing her form in a playfully gentle manner.

"Looking for something?" he mused, swinging the red shirt around in front of her eyes after yanking it from his pocket. He held it just out of her reach, grinning at her jokingly "A kiss for a cloth?" he bargained, his eyebrows lifting expectantly.

'A little less than a mile,' came the answer to Elena's rushed query as her frantic bambi's continued to search the tomb, in search for her garments of which seemed to have disappeared so miraculously. Although, Elena did not by any means regret the passionate encounter she'd found herself involved in with the elder Salvatore; despite this confirmation, she did wish, however, that she hadn't stripped herself so hastily - thus leading to the brunette to toss her clothes to the ground in such a fit of passion, that the next morning she was unable to retrieve them again... That realisation was beyond discourteous. Building upon this fact, Elena's eyes once again discovered Damon's flawless figure; for a second or two, the mortal found herself utterly awe-struck at the sight of his naked chest, but pouted instinctively the moment Damon cloaked himself in his black attire.

Albeit, the act was performed to cover Damon's defined muscles - the buttons failed to join each side of his shirt, and, in true Damon fashion the majority of his chest remained revealed. Still troubled rather tremendously, Elena raked a full set of dainty digits through the obvious disarray of which was her hair. (Which strangely had only been brought to Elena's attention then). Elena's head tilted to her right ever so slightly as she took in the undeniable mask of intrigue Damon's face now wore, as well as the extremely complimentative smirk. Uh-oh. Elena gulped back an emotion she didn't recognise as her eyes continued to further analyse his slowly stalking saunter. No reaction time was given to Elena during the period of her hand clutching at her newly-found jeans, and the attack of kisses Damon's mouth had ordered upon her being.

She bit into her lower lip, hard, and clamped a single hand into his hair, keeping Damon's face there as her eye lids began to flutter; she somehow managed to forget the burden of the vastly deteriorating time they were regrettably limited to, in which they were able to pledge themselves to enduring before the passionate pair inevitably parted ways. She shuddered against his practised touch before unwillingly opening her brown orbs to reply to his seductive suggestion. She gasped out of mock-horror before mirroring the grin across his lips and portraying it with her own.

"Mhm... I suppose I can deal with that scenario," Elena whispered before locking the arm of which was still clinging to her jeans around his neck and sliding the hand on her opposite arm through his hair.

She kissed him mercilessly and hungrily.

Genuinely pleased with Elena's co-operation with his negotiation, Damon tangled his own hand within the confines of Elena's disarray hair and hooked his other arm around her waist, hoisting her closer to his nearly fully-dressed form. Unless his extravagant ability to hear goings on around a mile away was inaccurate, Damon could hear Bonnie getting closer, repeatedly calling out the names of both vampire and human, demanding to know where they were. Every so often, her footsteps faltered, declaring that she had stopped to examine her surroundings or listen for responding calls. But when she carried on walking again, crushing leaves and snapping twigs at every abrasive stamp of her feet, it appeared that she had gotten no response in the slightest. The witch wasn't far away now – Damon could sense her aura edging nearer and nearer to the tomb as seconds went by. But he was so enwrapped in Elena's smouldering kiss that all cares were tossed to the wind.

A pleasure-driven groan erupted from Damon's orifice; it was an unusually gentle sound – more an expression of satisfaction from a puppy than the usual lion-like personality. The moment was pure bliss, just like the previous ones they'd shared. He still considered the idea of Elena's body being carved to fit against his perfectly – it certainly seemed that way, so he decided to keep it in his mind. She was made for him, and he was made for her. It was how it had always been.

Due to being so utterly transfixed by the taste of Elena's tongue and by the sensation of her dainty fingers through his silky black hair, he'd completely forgotten where they were and what risk they were in. They couldn't afford being caught by Bonnie – she hated Damon enough, and this was just another reason to add to her list of incentives. Elena belonged with Stefan, and if Bonnie was to see Damon all over Stefan's girl … She'd fry him for it. Literally.

Just then, Damon heard Bonnie's anxious voice ring out clearer than ever, thus forcing him to reluctantly pull away from Elena. Mentally, he cursed, and then handed over the crimson shirt, buttoning up his own. He then devoured the ground with his icy stare for a sight of his boots – he spotted them, pounced on them, and then yanked them on, one after the other. He then scooted back over to Elena, swiftly placed yet another benevolent kiss to her lips (unable to resist), then finally – to complete the look of pure innocence – swung on his beloved leather jacket, a smile upon his lips.

Elena allowed a wide-stretch grin to etch across her lips, continuing to grow more profound as their kiss increased in length as well as speed; Elena had developed an un hidden taste for Damon's kisses, and she was sure that if Damon were to offer them to her at a later date, then the task of denying them would be next to impossible. Elena could feel herself changing both in the way she perceived her actions, as well as how she chose her words, which were plucked considerably with care; a trait she'd easily borrowed from the elder Salvatore. And, perhaps, the uttermost dishonourable factor of all was that Elena had taken a profuse liking to their stolen, scandalous session and although she momentarily searched the realms of her mind for an ounce of guilt... Elena hadn't been able to find a minor trace.

At Damon's hoist, Elena's body immediately complied and allowed itself to be moulded against his faultless form; it was a mystery to Elena how it was possible for each of their body's to fit together so elegantly and their hands, as well as their mouths to move so fluently with one another's. It was no secret that this was another element of Damon and Elena's newly evoked romance that she relished within. The gentle whimper escaping Damon's mouth set of a frenzy of emotion in the pit of Elena's stomach; triggering a groan of yearning of her own as she kissed him with a slight up in intimacy. However, that action being prior to the recognition of her best friend's aimless calls. With obvious reluctance, Elena un hooked her arms from around Damon's neck as she began fiddling with the dark fabric of her jeans and attempted to drag them over her slender legs.

After a series of almost endless efforts, Elena had finally managed to dress her lower half, with the notable partaking of Damon's brief distraction. A wicked smirk captured Elena's lips as Damon regrettably handed her the crimson fabric in which she had dressed herself in the day prior; she took it slowly, not missing the interaction of their skin's surfaces and threaded her arms neatly through the allocated holes. Although, after tying two buttons, Elena flicked her pale pink tongue over her bottom lip and reached out, pulling Damon towards her body whilst scooping up her jacket with the other.

"You can't just kiss me whenever the time suits you, Salvatore; that wasn't our agreement," she teased before placing a full kiss upon his lips.

It seemed Elena was all for using as much time left to them as possible to devour in all that was Damon Salvatore, to which Damon himself had no complaints. The way she voluntarily grabbed him sent electricity charging through his body – oh, he liked his women feisty – and the way she feasted on his lips all but heightened his infatuation with her. There was no position he preferred to be in, in risk of getting caught or not. All that was on his mind right now was Elena; indigent Elena incessantly throwing herself at him. What more could he possibly want?

A dark, elfin chuckle emitted from his occupied lips at Elena's audacious words and, god, the way his surname sounded when she verbalised it … It made his insides melt.

"Try and stop me, Gilbert," he growled playfully against her pout, gently plucking her bottom lip between his teeth before ravenously kissing her, his finger lifting her chin up to impeccably meet his orifice.

It was eccentric to think that all this had happened pursuing Damon's famishment, which then led on to him nourishing on Elena's bittersweet blood. Who would've thought that a typical parasite, such as himself, would ever truly delve in his feelings for his victim? Of course, he knew he felt something for Elena, something close to love, before any of this had occurred, but he hadn't been definite. But after saving her life, killing another in the process, then finding themselves imprisoned uncannily in the tomb, he'd come to realise that he really did love Elena – and with all that he could possible muster. He loved her. And he always would. Nothing would ever change that.

"As much as I prefer you without this on," drawled Damon, reaching out to grasp the material of her shirt between his fingers, "I think we'd better take precautions and do it up."

Slowly, seductively and without leaving her lips, Damon did up the remaining buttons left undone on her shirt. By now, Bonnie was dauntingly close – man, the girl walked fast – for Damon could hear her shrill calls from levels above. Not a trace of panic fluttered through Damon – in fact, he cared not if the witch were to catch them – but he reluctantly pulled away from Elena, but only so much so that the tiniest of gaps were left between them. He would get a beating if they were to be spotted, but he wasn't scared … Much.

"Elena?" called the apprehensive voice of Bonnie, Elena's best friend and Mystic Falls' witch, "Damon?" Ugh, the place was gross.

It smelt absolutely terrible down beneath the ground. It was dark, damp and utterly confusing – she wasn't entirely sure if she was going the right way. After all, she'd only been down here once before … She had put the thought of the tomb out of her mind since then, what with it being such a horrible place.

Because of that, memories of routes had fled her mind, "Are you down here, Elena?"

From nearby, she heard the rustle of what she interpreted to be clothing, and a husky whisper in male tones. Suspicious, Bonnie sped up her pace; heading towards where she thought these sounds had come from.

With a heavy sigh and a repentant look at Elena, Damon took a step away from her, generating a larger gap between two bodies that seemed to always want to connect, much alike a jigsaw. He leant nonchalantly against the wall of the tomb, his eyes not leaving Elena until; at long last, Bonnie appeared at the tomb's entrance. She almost fainted at the sight of them.

"Thank god!" she gasped.

Elena's black leather jacket remained dropped over her forearm as her right hand remained fixed onto Damon's; her finger's hold was firm, the smooth material felt good against her hot tips as her thumb began caressing out invisible creases. Their kisses were as passionate as they were drawn-out, as if they had all of the time in the world in which to ravish one another, again and again, until neither could breathe within the heavy veil of love and lust, binding them so wholly, and completely. It was, of course, needless to say that the doppelganger was currently blinded with rose-coloured visions and dreamy delights; her judgement as of this present second would quite possibly differ to a latter, or a prior date, but allowing herself to care about that fact would destroy the moment both Damon and Elena had carefully crafted...

That thought alone persuaded Elena to no longer ponder a single negative of the scenario she had all-too willingly fell into; instead, Elena focused her mind's attention fully on the here and the now - that being the constant kisses Damon only too eagerly supplied her with. (Not that Elena was particularly complaining at that... Merely stating.) A helpless giggle of glee slipped effortlessly from Elena's mouth as Damon growled against her; it was only after the sound had echoed around the passionate pair, that Elena came to the realisation that Bonnie, to, may have been within ear-shot. Oh well, Elena could always fabricate a story, could she not? After all, it wasn't as though that once the vampire and human were free from the confines of the dismal tomb, their priority would be to make their steamy sessions public knowledge. In fact, that was the exact opposite of what Elena wanted... No, not wanted. Needed.

But leaving that thought at bay, she once again refused to revisit a subject until it was imperative to; Elena's concentration averted to the immortal within her arms. His latter, rather suggestive comment triggered not only her eyebrows to shoot up a degree or two, but also, for her lips to break their hold on his own and graze along his jawline; his hands, unfortunately dressed her torso, opposing to the reverse action of which both Damon and Elena would've enjoyed undoubtedly more.

"And although i hate to admit it, I suppose you're right," Elena said in a whispered, contented sigh before releasing the intense hold her fingers had upon his jacket and frowning; was that really Bonnie out there or was it just Elena's conscience playing tricks upon her?

Whichever it was, Elena didn't favour it even mildly. Damon seemed to note discreditable turn of events and, with an apologetic glance of which Elena noted; Damon backed away.

In one swift movement, Elena's over-coat was now fixed in its rightful position on her frame, as did her socks and then her trainers soon follow; deciding it was now or never, (and if Elena could, she would've seriously considered the never...) Elena sucked in a huge intake of air before stealing one rash glance Damon's way and stepping out into the light, immediately shielding her orbs from the sun's rays and allowing Bonnie to see her full form. She plastered a huge, fake smile across her lips.

"Bonnie! I'm so glad you found me!" Elena called before squinting into the distance and adding "Is that... Stefan with you?"

With a frown upon her soft, mocha skin, Bonnie looked from vampire to human and back again, as if trying to figure something out. But when she came to no conclusion for her suspicions, she blinked hard and turned to Elena, who was peering curiously towards the spring-time drenched forest.

"Uh, yes!" she replied distractedly, "Yes, Stefan's over there. He wanted to come with me to make sure I was safe and whatnot, um-"

She spun on the spot and copied Elena's searching gesture; a hand shielding her eyes from the sun and her chin raised in observation, "Stefan!" she yelled at the top of her voice, though – what with Stefan possessing the incredible ability to hear from a mile off – it wasn't needed, "Over here! I've found them!" She waved frantically to capture his attention, and within minutes, the younger Salvatore was at Bonnie's side, a look of pure relief coaxing his handsome features.

"Elena, thank god you're OK," he whispered.

"Don't worry about me, brother, I didn't almost die."

Relatively annoyed at the appearance of his brother, Damon did not move from his lean against the wall. He merely watched the panorama with mild interest, growing steadily impatient by the second.

"As much as I love to witness such dreary reunions," he commented cynically in cold tones, looking from Stefan, to Bonnie, to Elena (where his eyes momentarily lingered) and back around the circuit of people, "I'd very much like to be liberated now. As I'm sure would Elena."

He gestured languidly in Elena's direction, a hint of expectation about his poker-player expression. Once again, his face was solid, resembling no emotion whatsoever. It was an uncanny trait of his, to keep others out, to barricade anything in. When wearing an expression that so marvellously resembled stone, nobody ever asked questions; that was how he liked it and that was how it would stay.

But … It appeared that these robust barriers seemed to falter whenever he was graced with Elena's presence. It was like she was the blazing fire to his resilient metal blockade, wielding and melting the obstacle that separated her and his heart. How she was able to get inside with such flair, he didn't know. He preferred to remain oblivious to further knowledge concerning the weakening of his humanity's fortification.

Upon Damon's buoyant request, Stefan turned to Bonnie, looking highly optimistic.

"Can you get them out, Bonnie?" he asked, "Can you hold off the spell?"

Stefan's voice wavered as he asked Bonnie these two very important questions; maybe it was because last time they lifted the spell on the tomb, Bonnie's grandmother died. It took an awful lot of magical power to do such a thing. Nevertheless, Bonnie nodded confidently, staring into the jewel-bright eyes of the youngest Salvatore sibling.

"Yes, it shouldn't be too hard. They're not far into the tomb, and there are only two of them. Just as long as they come straight out as soon as the spell is performed, nothing bad will happen."

This answered seemed to comfort Stefan. He gestured for Bonnie to go ahead with it, and took a step away, standing in the shadows of the confines that surrounded the tomb. His eyes never seemed to leave the little witch, who was now bracing herself. Bonnie lifted both hands in front of the tomb, palms facing away from her, and her eyes fluttered to a close. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, fixing her concentration, before muttering fluent Latin under her breath. The string of words that erupted from her lips were as smooth as poetry and were spoken with apparent competence. They gradually increased in volume and frequency, in brusqueness and in energy, until suddenly, Bonnie's eyes flew open.

"Quick!" she gasped at Damon and Elena, "I can only hold for a few seconds."

Grabbing Elena's hand, Damon fled from the confines of the tomb, at long last bathed in inviting sunlight.

The well-tailored smile remained dominant on Elena's lips as her eyes rested upon her best friend's African American features; it was much easier to concentrate on the witch than it would've been if Elena were to break her gaze and allow it to linger its way directly back to the Salvatore she'd spent much of last night passionately kissing. Only a minor piece of Elena's attention, however, was focused upon her best friend as she replied in a half-hearted tone.

"Good, it feels like I've been stuck in here for days - and I seriously need a shower," she muttered before, betraying her self-control, averted her eyes towards Damon; she inhaled a sharp breath as she felt his mental pull - she wanted to badly to connect her lips with his own, have his hands all over her right now it was insane...

But Elena knew she had to keep a handle upon herself for the second they stepped out of this tomb, everything would change; Elena would be forced to swallow her fiery feelings for Damon and banish any thought of the two of them intimately connecting, thus leading to two rather unsatisfied souls. However, although the emotions of which emitted from Elena when around the blue-eyed immortal were severely stronger than that of Stefan, Elena simply could not afford to cause the younger brother, nor herself any unnecessary heart break. Unbeknown to Elena, her gaze was still locked onto Damon's, fantasizing about their time together the night prior when the voice of her boyfriend broke her concentration. Her eyes flickered to Stefan, and this time when she smiled - it was out of relief more than anything else.

Perhaps if she were to spend time with the said boyfriend once again, she would be able to merely dismiss her intimate interaction with Damon as a misplaced mistake. If the assumption hadn't been so vastly into the realms of wishful thinking then Elena would've considered it; but due to the fact Elena was twitching with anxiety, she wouldn't bank on the prediction.

"Oh, Stefan! I'm fine," she whispered back, her voice evident in glee as she took a step forward, but found herself dumb-founded by the invisible barrier.

Yes, that was correct - the sole reason Damon and Elena had found themselves in their joint steamy session in the first place was because of their imprisonment within the tomb... Bearing witness to the conversation between both Bonnie and Stefan, Elena chose to ignore the obvious cynic within Damon's tone.

That was not the Damon she had pledged herself to last night... Not by any means. And despite her obvious distaste in Damon's miraculously adopted behaviour, Elena registered the bitter tone of envy of which seemed to inflict every word using the elder brother's tongue. And truth be told, deep down within the small, but shallow segment of Elena's being... She liked it. No, she more than liked it; the flattery of having two brothers helplessly in love with the human girl had her frustrated, no doubt, but flustered also as she recalled each of the brother's promises of love and affection. Whilst her mind continued to analyse the situation she'd found herself ensnarled in, she became blissfully unaware of the goings-on in the environment around her; she was, however brought back to reality at the touch of Damon's hand. It shot numerous electrical jolts through her veins and coursed throughout her entire body.

Once their sprint had dispersed Elena's eyes immediately snapped to Damon's, holding them for the smallest of instances before, self-consciously, she dropped his hand, hoping neither Bonnie nor Stefan caught the red-hot sexual tension between the pair. Appearing not to have notice, a new set of arms wrapped around her, these a familiar, homely feel as Elena sighed with content. Stefan released her, only slightly before claiming her lips in one, long, passionate kiss.

"I'm so glad you're here... That you're okay," he murmured

Within that split second that Damon and Elena caught each other's eye, Damon could've sworn that everything inside of him quivered. He wanted to hold that gaze forever, to just lose himself in those beautiful eyes. It was a shame it didn't last long; before he knew it, her fingers were slipping away from his, and she'd run into the open arms of Stefan. He couldn't help but watch in envy as they shared an embrace – one that clearly demonstrated how relieved and happy they were to finally be reunited. Damon suppressed the urge to scoff in repugnance. To distract himself, he turned to Bonnie and slapped her heartedly on the shoulder, forcing a grin.

"Thanks for that, Bonnie."

Bonnie merely glared at him. Damon recoiled slightly, but nonetheless took it as a, "You're welcome", and then turned back to the previously interlocked pair. His heart plummeted to find them now kissing passionately, and this time he couldn't conceal his blunt resentment.

He eyed the intimate lovers with malicious envy, wanting nothing more than to tear them apart and take the female part for his own. But he couldn't. He knew that he couldn't, no matter how much he yearned to. He should've known, when trapped in the tomb with Elena, undergoing numerous forms of volatile interaction, that it was too good to be true, no matter how real and how right it had felt. Elena belonged with Stefan … Damon was just a replacement. Or at least, that's what he felt like. Nothing more than a standby.

What the hell was he thinking? Elena belonged with him, no matter how much a part of his brain was whispering otherwise. It literally pained him to see them so affectionately involved with one another. He should've seen this coming. He should've known that, once out of the time, he would be forgotten. Damon clenched his teeth, forcing his eyes away from Stefan and Elena and instead let them linger on the dirty ground.

"Let's just get out of here. If I see another human skeleton, I think I may just burst into flames."

**Steph+Jackie **


	7. Tears of an Angel

**A/N: Was a great feeling waking up today; honestly, going to Alton Towers and **_**then **_**checking up on this story before you go… Freaking amazing! ;D Your reviews… I seriously cannot stress how awesome these are and how much they mean to Steph and I – so **_**please **_**keep reviewing, reading and subscribing! And so, since I'm gonna be out all day, and our Stephanie's a busy gal' as of late – I shall update. :') So, this is just the **_**real **_**aftermath of the DE tomb makeout/kiss/sex scene whatever. ;) Enjoy. (Or, not.. I guess) and hit me with your reviews! :B**

**Chapter 7: Tears of an Angel.**

Damon strode away from the panorama, heading towards gracious clean air and sunlight. Though he much preferred the dark, it sure was a relief to be free of the confines of the tomb. It hadn't taken long to finally reach the Salvatore Boarding House. They were already inside, comfortable on the various armchairs scattered about the most ornate and antique room in the house. Stefan was perched upon the one nearest the fireplace with Elena on his lap, his arms looped around her waist. Bonnie was sat opposite them, whilst Damon was leant against a nearby wall, his jacket discarded over the back of the only remaining vacant chair. He still supported a displeased expression, his eyes upon the cosy pair nearest the fire, completely isolated from the rest of the group.

Stefan was just so relieved that Elena was safe and in his arms again. He made a silent vow never to let her go again. He didn't know what he would do if he lost her. To prove how ecstatic he was to have her back, he kissed her softly at the base of her neck, burying his face in the wonderfully soft consistency of her hair.

Damon's jaw clenched upon witnessing this affectionate gesture. He couldn't take it anymore. If he stood there much longer, he'd explode – not many people would benefit from the eruption. It wasn't like he spat out fertile soil at every burst.

"I'm going for a walk," he muttered stonily and headed for the door. He grasped the brass handle and wrenched it open, stepping out to once again greet the mild sunshine. He couldn't watch it anymore. His brother had something he didn't have, something he needed and so incredibly badly. Every time he thought of that particular thing, his stomach churned.

He needed to get away from the unpleasant visuals. He didn't trust himself to stay there.

A small smile captured Elena's lips upon hearing Stefan's comment and she couldn't help but return a loving reply of her own; Elena's arms were hooped around his neck now, holding their body's close as they basked in the happiness of their reconcile.

"As am I, I missed you terribly, Stefan," Elena whispered in a slightly dishonest reply; because, if Elena were to correct her statement - the end result would not be desired.

Whilst entrapped in the confines of the dingy, desolate tomb, Elena had not wallowed in misery over the absence of her boyfriend - in fact, she had done quite the opposite; Damon, in reality had been to her what during their passionate playing, he had asked her to be for him. Her distraction. And distract her; he had done in conceivably the worst way possible.

However, that point of view depended on whoever was thinking of it; because to Elena, despite the fact Elena had tainted herself with stolen kisses and secret touches - she still craved him. One would've thought and hoped for the opposite - but what seemed in spite of that, Stefan's lips were no substitute for Damon's... And nor would they ever be. It was at that moment that Elena felt something - a pang of an emotion so unusual and of which seemed so far away. It was as though Elena herself wasn't feeling the emotion, but the vessel of her body was being forced to undergo its wretched sensation. And wretched it was. Unable to continue to kiss Stefan, (as she'd grown to discover to unpleasant grasp within her gut became more profound the more she took part in their tender osculate) she released herself from his grip as Stefan nodded in agreement to his brother's suggestion.

Elena turned, a single arm wrapped around Stefan and, without a glance Damon's way, began walking onward; she wouldn't look at him. She couldn't. The walk to the boarding house was short, but painful; Elena had, never before in her entire seventeen years of surviving on this earth felt such a ghastly sensation bury itself deep within Elena's soul and then, take hold of her heart and coil around it, tightening its grip harder and harder until Elena took to inhaling large gulps in an attempt to suppress it. What an earth was wrong with her? Upon finally reaching the Salvatore's home, Stefan and Elena almost instantly sauntered towards their prized spot and Stefan, naturally, began nibbling affectionately at Elena's skin. The inner pain momentarily forgotten, Elena allowed a gleeful giggle to escape her lips.

The soft sound, as if condemning her, a mere moment after sent a huge jolt of agony through the entirety of her chest and she, as if by reflex removed herself a degree or two from Stefan and shot her gaze immediately towards that of a heavily inflicted Damon. The sudden realisation of what she'd done, what she'd been doing since their escape from the tomb and how carefree and sadistic it would seem to the elder brother… finally dawned upon her. She gulped, hearing his words before fully releasing herself from Stefan's hold, insisting she should check up on him. Although reluctant, Stefan nodded stiffly and without waiting for a reply, Elena fled; her feet did not stop, nor did they slow as she reached the grounds, calling his name. Eventually Elena caught up to the immortal and grasped at his forearm, pulling him to face her before speaking.

"Damon, what are you doing, and where are you going?" Elena asked, her eyes searching his for answers.

Damon knew that someone would follow him, and he had only hoped that it would be Elena. He wanted to be alone with her, just for a few minutes if forever wasn't possible. He heard the frantic footsteps of an oncoming being, but did not turn around. By the time the front door of the boarding house had slammed shut, the bang reverberating through the air until it reached Damon's sound receptors, Damon already knew who it was. His intuition was confirmed when a small hand gripped his arm and spun him to face her, obstructing his rampant journey across the grass.

Elena's eyes were searching, boring into his in hope of receiving an answer to her question. Her profound beauty was too much for him now – rather than mesmerising, it was pure torture. Because he knew he couldn't have her.

He didn't speak – he merely looked at her, frowning, trying to keep his anger at bay.

Did she honestly not know why he had so suddenly departed the sickeningly cosy atmosphere? He didn't want to see her with Stefan. He wanted to see her with him. And after everything she had said to him when in the tomb … He thought she'd wanted him in return.

At long last, Damon found his voice, but it wasn't as composed as it usually was. It fractured with each word, seemingly tainted with the tiniest branches of pain and anger that had escaped the confines of his emotions' resolute cage.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Elena?" he retorted heatedly, blue eyes furiously wide; "I can't sit there and watch you and Stefan. I can't pretend that everything's OK when it's not and that nothing happened between us in that tomb. I can't, Elena."

Damon advanced on her, clearing the space between them until they were left separated by the smallest of gaps. He took her hands in his, slipping his fingers between hers and curling them into fists, inhaling deeply.

He held on to them tightly, not ever wanting to let go. This is how they belonged; connected, interlocked, and united in numerous ways. But they couldn't… because Elena loved Stefan.

Damon bowed his head towards her, their noses inches apart, "You said you'd love me for eternity …" he whispered weakly, "Don't tell me that didn't mean anything."

Elena swallowed a harsh intake of air as the gas grazed down her already-raw throat; she had to gain some sort of control upon herself if she were going to succeed in actually speaking right now. The intense pain of which inflicted upon Elena's betraying heart seemed all too much to handle - and in all honesty, Elena would give anything for this aching, throbbing twinge inside of her to give, even just a little. And in her heart Elena knew exactly what she had to do; but how could she give her all to... Damon Salvatore? As if his womanizing ways weren't enough of a neon sign in rejection, Damon was never one for neither sensitivity nor comfort... Knowing this, why in heaven's name did Elena find herself overwhelmed with utter compassion for this beautiful creature of the night before her?

She caught his heated gaze, and oddly, found herself unable to tear her own eyes away from the consistent burning his own scolded into her being she opened her mouth to speak, but no words would escape it - what could she say... What could she do to make any of this right; to make any part of this excruciatingly painful situation bearable for either of them? And then she found it - as if a metaphorical switch had been flicked intentionally in her brain, in order for Elena to finally grasp the actions, the words of which were destined to escape her mouth. Her hands soon found themselves encased within Damon's own and she squeezed his soft palms, her head shaking the smallest of degrees. And although the action was one of denial - Elena found herself, suddenly, as if repeating her actions the night prior, giving in.

"Damon..." His name rolled off of her tongue, so freely, so effortlessly - sent to him in a whisper across the sea of their seemingly never-ending desire for one another; his face was so close now; Elena's next move was utterly inevitable.

A single hand slipped from Damon's hold and caught his cheek, without a moment longer devoted to thought, she leant closer and closed the gap between their two sets of lips; her eyes snapped shut as she kissed him, thus diminishing the gaping whole within her heart.

Within the instant that their lips met, Damon felt all surplus anger drain from his tense system. With enthusiasm equivalent to that of which Elena possessed, Damon returned her kiss, pushing his lips against hers, moulding them into a perfect fit with her own alluring orifice. He slid his hand over her shoulder, pursuing her bodily structure until it came to rest upon the back of her neck. He tangled his fingers in her long hair, whilst his remaining hand merely held onto Elena's tighter, pulling her closer into the impassioned gesture she had only brought on herself.

Damon didn't care if his brother were to step outside and witness this intense moment; in fact, he would've liked it to happen – just to see the bemused look on Stefan's face would generate a celebration in his soul. He'd already felt the tweak of pain upon seeing Elena with someone else. God, let Stefan suffer the same hurt.

Damon unfastened his fingers from their hold on Elena's dainty hand.

He repositioned it tenderly upon her cheek instead, the tips of his fingers gently caressing up and down her jaw line, before also burying itself in her hair. He gripped fistfuls of its softness, savouring the placid consistency of it against his skin, weaving strands of it in and out of his veteran clutch. Why everything about her was so irresistible, why she seemed to be the only one able to soften the solidity of his soul and melt the coldness of his heart, he would never be able to comprehend. All he knew was that he wanted this perfect being all to himself.

As Elena felt his eager lips move against her own, for a long moment Elena allowed herself to relish within the emotions only Damon seemed to be able to evoke at such an intensity as this; flashbacks of their kisses, their touches and echoes of their sweet whispers to one another in the tomb the night prior had Elena tingling all over, as she continued to taste tantalizing traces of Damon's saliva, his tongue brushing over her own. She let escape a helpless whimper as their kiss deepened, the hand of which once held his face locking into his hair whilst her other, abandoned hand rested at his chest. Their osculation progressed into that of a much more passionate one as Elena felt herself beginning to lose awareness of the environment surrounding her. Although, something, she wasn't sure what - her conscience, maybe? Shot a jolt of realisation through her being and Elena released his lips by stilling her own.

Her breathing still heavily laboured, Elena desperate attempted to gain even the smallest amount of control over it before shaking her head, this time a lot more determined than before she succumbed to Damon, yet again. Not this time though, Elena had to stand firm.

"Damon... No," she rasped breathlessly before opening her orbs as a frown fell across her features "It doesn't... Mean anything," she paused, her fingers unthreading from his hair, but her hand still remained on his chest as she added "It can't."

Damon had been hoping that it would last, their kiss. But his hopes were too high, for as soon as they breached passion, Elena's lips stilled and prohibited the moment from recommencing. He remained close to her, their noses barely an inch apart, their lips separated by an adverse gap. Damon refused to believe that she had pulled away, that she had felt a hint of regret towards this wonderful affair. Why had she stopped it? Did this not mean anything to her? In the tomb … Was it all just pretend? Damon closed his eyes and laid his forehead against Elena's, exhaling heavily. He kept his hand tangled within the confines of her silky hair, his fingers stroking its cordial consistency. His spare hand, however, came to rest upon his chest, right on top of hers. He held onto it firmly, not wanting to let go.

"You don't mean that," whispered Damon, shaking his head the tiniest amount, "You can't mean that …"

He opened his eyes to stare into her warm, chocolaty orbs, once again losing himself in their mesmerising flawlessness. Why couldn't they be his eyes to gaze into? Why couldn't this be his hand to hold? Why couldn't he have her? Why was she so in love with his brother? But of course … Stefan was the good one, the virtuous one, the sibling with morals. He was everything that Damon wasn't. Everything that Elena wanted. It was raining. But only lightly. Grey clouds had shifted into position high above them, concealing the previously handsome cerulean sky. It was now a horrible murky colour – the kind of sky that, when waking up to it in the early hours of the morning, made you just want to stay in bed with the covers pulled up over your face. It was still bright, similar to a winter's morning, but the sunshine was fighting a losing battle. Damon paid no mind to it. In fact, he'd known it had been coming.

His voice was blunt, dull and his eyes were averted from Elena's. With a simple fluid motion, he was at least three feet away, marching away from the Boarding House, across the grass and closer to the depths of the sodden forest. As soon as his feet felt concrete, rather than soft, squishy grass, it began to pour with rain.

After all, his vampirism granted him many advantages and powers; weather control was one of them. And if often accustomed to his mood. Rain was the perfect description for his mood right now.

With a defeated sigh, Damon slid his hand out from the depths of Elena's hair, and loosened his other on its hold upon her own. He began to retreat from Elena, his expression contorted with a mixture of sadness and antagonism. He had to get out of here. Somewhere quiet, secluded and where nobody would find him. He'd return in due time, but for now … He needed significant thinking time.

"I have to go. Don't come looking for me."

She was holding his gaze, and was overly steadfast in doing so; despite the constant squeezing and further tearing at her heart due to the words of which emitted from her mouth; the mouth still exhaling heavily from the passion of Damon and Elena's kiss. Elena wanted nothing more than to coil her arms around Damon and bury her weary head in his toned chest, closing her eyes as she exhaled his scent and asked him, no, begged him to hold her until the world's end and beyond. And despite the intense yearning, Elena knew she could never; not now. Their romance was as forbidden as it was intoxicating, and Elena, just by merely catching glances with him could feel herself drowning deeper into the sea of their amorousness.

It was then, upon the timid temperament of Damon's reply that Elena could feel the layers of his already-tormented heart began to slowly flay and had to suppress a clutch at her own vital organ as a sharp jolt shot through the entirety of her chest; but right now, Elena had to force herself to ignore the agonizing pain and end what she, single-handedly had begun. For she, Elena was the one who had pressurized the inflicted individual to stop resisting and to... Ultimately let her in. This was the mess she had made and although deep down she knew it was irrevocable and irreversible; the affliction, she knew would stay with her, conceivably for eternity - or, for at least as long as she lived. But in Damon's case - he didn't possess that seemingly small, but nevertheless natural pleasure.

The mortal opened her mouth, attempting to reply, or at least lend the beautifully-battered man a word or two in consolation for her ill-treatment of his soul, but no words were being granted escape, so Elena... Helplessly, compassionately stared into those deep, fathomless eyes, eventually feeling herself becoming lost within those immaculate irises. Not a second later, Elena felt a cool sensation appear on her cheek and, evidently slide down her face; shortly afterward, the feeling of several droplets began dotting all over her revealed skin, as well as clothes-covered body and soon the pellets began to pound harder than before. It was ironic, the weather, and their current situation - pathetic fallacy almost. He was walking away from her now, and something within her soul snapped and she called out to him in a strangled cry.

"Damon!"

Elena went to dash forward, directly into his arms but was halted by the sound of him, Stefan. She chided herself, and throwing Damon a pleading glance - she fled.

He barely glanced over his shoulder at Elena's desperate cry. He so badly wanted to turn on his heel and re-trace his steps back towards her, but he resisted the temptation and carried on going. He managed to catch a glimpse of her standing there in the pouring rain, before she darted off back to the Boarding House – seemingly reluctantly – at Stefan's call. He was sure that by the time the pair was back inside the warmth and protection of the house, he'd be long gone. Probably not as far away as he would've liked, but far enough.

Only when he found that his black shirt was completely drenched, he wished he'd picked his jacket up off the back of the armchair in the living room. He mentally kicked himself for his lack of preparation, but nonetheless continued his indefatigable journey through the dismal town of Mystic Falls. By now, a storm had swept across the town, saturating it in a harsh dosage of rain, hail and uncompromising thunder.

The odd flash of lightening illuminated a vast gathering of deep-grey clouds in the distance, but the low grumble of thunder and the ruthless bolts of electricity were all but pacifying to Damon. He watched the storm-clouds drifted across the busy horizon, his expression composed and not caring that the rain was relentlessly soaking him to the skin. He was sat within the depths of a forest located on the outskirts of Mystic Falls' border. He remembered detouring there a few times in the past, and distinctly remembered coming across and old, tarnished cabin made only of fragile wood. It was the only place he could think of that would be secluded and solitary – he was almost certain that nobody really knew of this place. After all … The forest was not a kind place to one hoping for an adventure. People like him were lurking in the shadows.

The cabin did a bad job in sheltering him from the storm, but he still seemed able enough to comfortably assign himself a seat inside.

He perched himself upon a rotting wooden bench, arms crossed against his chest, his feet resting upon the empty window frame. There used to be glass there – apparently, not anymore. Damon dared himself to delve deep into his thoughts and scoop out ones that involved Elena. Beautiful, radiant, quirky Elena. Just whispering her name sent tremors down his spine. But picturing her face had a more devouring affect; he felt like he'd just been stabbed countless times in the abdomen. Either that or trillions of butterflies were fluttering around inside of him in rather a delusional manner, desperate to free themselves of their bloody prison.

Why was he tormenting himself with such poisonous thoughts? If he were to dive into the pool of thoughts of Elena that were inside of his mind, he would most surely drown. That was, of course, if he were human. And not – supposedly – dead. Damon was so immersed in ponders of the wonderful girl he could not have, that he barely noticed the shadow behind him. He spotted it, and started, but wasn't fast enough. The man – big and burly – shoved a sharp needle into the base of his neck. Damon choked, struggled and kicked out at the attacking stranger, but (as strong as he was) the vervain beat him, the burning pain overtaking his regrettably vulnerable self. Within a few seconds, he was on the floor, unmoving.

A weak and courage less coward. That, pretty much described Elena's inner thoughts towards herself right now; not only had she betrayed Stefan during the process - but she had also betrayed something with much worse consequences. Her heart. Her soul sought after, longed to belong to who she craved, -Damon- however, her sheer pusillanimity seemed to be holding a firm foundation within her mind. After all, where had acting upon Elena's emotions gotten her..? What the brunette had felt last night in the tomb with the elder Salvatore - the way his hands had shaped over every contour of her body, and how her lips desperately, hungrily devoured his own... It had been criminal. Although every sense in her being had become electrified, she failed to conceive how such a sin could be in any way correct.

Being with Damon, by Damon's side was dangerous - she felt vulnerable and unsure of what was right and what was erroneous. And she couldn't live that way. And as if emphasizing this said fact, Elena departed, made a hasty retreat from both Damon and her perplexing, nevertheless, undeniably intense feelings for him. But in reality, Elena knew within herself that she couldn't run from it, from him forever; but maybe if she were to distance herself from him, thus banishing every single thought; force herself to tear her eyes from his own, chide her being every moment she were to steal a glance... Then perhaps she would eventually, at the very least suppress the inevitable urge she held so profoundly, to be with Damon and to want him in every way humanly (and inhumanly) possible. Damon was a covet. And a covet of which Elena had to force herself to tame; for if she did not - Elena knew not of the ravenous creature that would erupt from the depths of her inner sea of desire.

As Elena continued to dodge the profuse pellets of water, she applied her mind's task to thinking of much more practical thoughts; such as solutions to the now-problematic situation. Arriving inside the confines of the boarding house, Elena's eyes saw nothing past the veil of tears as colourful images blurred together, merging into an opaque landscape. And seemingly in spite of this, albeit Elena's line of vision was far from clear - the raw, gaping whole within her self-forsaken heart was bleeding. A set of strong, loyal arms coiled around her fragile frame, and Elena let them. Her head buried into his chest as she attempted to hide her weeping.

"I'll call Jenna; you're staying with me tonight," Stefan's caring tone comforted.

And she nodded, for all she could do was nod.

The clouds were creeping cautiously through the darkened sky as the wind continued to howl, rapping itself aggressively against the windows and whistling through the walls of the Salvatore boarding house; the rain persisted its attack upon Elena's surroundings, taking particular delight in the windows, as it threatened to shatter. She shuddered. It was night-time, and although Elena was wrapped safely in Stefan's arms; she felt more alone than ever. And it was upon that very confirmation that the human felt a jolt, forcing her body upwards and a startling scream to rip from her vocal chords. Stefan awoke with a start and clutched at her, whilst she grasped her stomach.

"Stefan, Stefan its Damon; we need to find Damon!"

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	8. Leave Out All The Rest

**A/N: Hey there my lovelies! We each apologize for the lateness of this chapter – but the lead up to my birthday has been hectic. (Which is actually, today ;)) But, here we are with yet another chapter: 'How does Elena know Damon's in danger,' you ask. WELL, I suppose you'll all just have to find out when the characters do – but your theories, ofc are always welcome in a review. :B And thank you for your wishes for my day at Alton Towers – it was actually pretty great! :'] And Steph and I are well aware of how much you guys want DE together, (because we want it too, badly ;)) but all good love stories come with time and a lil' hurt. (: Chapter inspired by Linkin Park's 'Leave Out All The Rest' and.. well, Delena. So please, **_**please **_**hit us with a review!**

**Chapter 8: Leave Out All The Rest.**

Damon awoke to find himself surrounded by near-darkness; the only light being that of a dim candle in the corner of the room. The candle cast an eerie, orange glow about the box-like room, of which didn't contain much; a desk, a stool and a lamp that clearly didn't work were few of various items scattered about carelessly, and, of course, him, bound to a chair by ropes soaked in-

"Agh!" Damon exclaimed in pain upon an instinctive tug at the ropes binding him. Vervain.

The ropes were burning into his skin, tearing and rubbing it raw, producing beads and bubbles of crimson blood. Every time he struggled against the bindings, a searing pain lashed mercilessly up his arm, forcing a pain-drenched yell and a guttural growl to erupt from his throat. He tried pursing his lips, not wanting to give his captor – whoever that may be - any satisfaction with his agonised exclamations, but it was so hard and it hurt so much.

But he had to hold it in. He had to laugh it off cynically. It would get rid of the pain. It would conceal it. It worked before. Right?

"What happened to fighting like a man?" Damon demanded into the silence, his tired eyes searching every corner and ever tiny hiding place visible within the light of the slowly distinguishing candle. He found that his voice was oddly cracked, as if it lacked in use, "Damn it …" he growled quietly, "Show yourself, you-!" But he was cut off by his own tortured gasp.

Upon this apparently unauthorized order, Damon received a nasty stab in the midriff. It had come out of absolutely nowhere! He looked down and - much to his horror - saw that a single steel dagger protruded from his stomach. Blood oozed ominously from the wound, dampening his shirt, creating a darker pool around the inserted weapon. God, who was doing this? Whoever it was must seriously hate him … If only they would show themselves.

"Elena!" breathed Stefan, clinging onto his beloved with gentle force, "Elena, what's wrong? Damon?" he repeated, confused, "Don't worry about Damon, he'll come back eventually." He tried soothing her with comforting caresses upon her shoulder. He massaged her there, trying to relax her, but it didn't seem to be working, "He always wanders off and comes back."

This was very true. Damon didn't seem to find significance in letting people know where he was and why. The eldest Salvatore got on with his life in apparent privacy. He went where he wanted and when he wanted, ignoring any questions that came about it. But no matter how long he disappeared for, he always seemed to return. Which was unlucky – for some.

Besides, Elena couldn't possibly know something was wrong with Damon. She wasn't psychic; she had no telepathically enhanced powers. She was just human – possibly with exceedingly accurate intuition?

"I'm sure Damon's fine, Elena." He reassured her again, "Go back to sleep. You'll be tired tomorrow."

"You hurt me," announced a wavering tone from the depths of the darkness, "Then I hurt you."

At long last, a face swam into Damon's line of sight. It was a young face, scattered with tawny stubble. He had dark, dark eyes – the colour of coal – and had an oddly menacing look about him. But it wasn't enough to scare bold and brave Damon Salvatore. It took an awful lot to scare Damon. He merely laughed into the man's face; by now, Damon had interpreted that he was a vampire. There were so many things about him that made it obvious. But nothing about this juvenile vampire frightened him. He'd met much, much more dangerous vampires. More dangerous beings in general.

"I'm going to take a wild guess," commented Damon comically, his voice laced with venom, "I killed your partner, because he almost killed mine?"

Elena wasn't his partner … But it had been the first thing to pop into his head. But thinking of Elena … It caused him more pain. It even made his eyes moisten.

But the young vampire simply sneered at him. And then thrust another knife into his stomach – this time coated in a thick, slimy layer of Vervain.

Elena's eyes squeezed together, suppressing the tears of which bricked at her eye-rims and begged to betray the fluttering boarder of her brown orbs; her game still clutched tightly at her chest, and despite herself - a single eye opened and she glanced towards the area of discomfort. No blood; nothing. There was no visible sign whatsoever that any physical harm had come to the human, just as, within Stefan's homely, comforting voice there was no trace of worry or even doubt. And through the indescribable pain and the winces, both mentally and physical it caused her body and mind to undergo... The more troubling result was not of the harm inflicting upon her frame - but the fact that Stefan didn't even flinch the slightest, nor did his eyes betray a single emotion of brotherhood of which Elena thought as compulsory.

On the contrary, she knew Stefan and Damon weren't particularly 'close' at the best of times; but surely the younger brother cared if the life of his elder sibling was endangered... even if it were minor? Finding this indeed as bizarre as she did disturbing, Elena inhaled deep breaths, which evolved into more pant-like heaves as her eye lids fluttered involuntarily - her hand still strapped to her lower abdomen; as if it were a band aid holding her fragile figure together. Reacting impulsively to Stefan's words, Elena's eyes shot towards his own, blazing with, what to Elena felt like livid rage as her brown bambi's burned into Stefan's passive gaze.

"How can you say that, Stefan?" Elena asked her voice high-pitched with a slight exasperation; she shook her head, her messy dark curls swaying as she did so "He's in trouble Stefan... I just know it."

His strong, secure arms were still braced around her, but Elena broke their hold, unable to stand the way his touch seemed to smother her. She threw the covers aside and sprung to her feet, not caring for the dull ache of her muscles and the mild creak of her bones; Elena would go for Damon, find Damon and she would bring him home - so he was safe. And if Elena were forced to complete the said task alone, then that was exactly what she would do. The human felt a part of him; no, she was a part of him... And the knowledge of every person the immortal had wronged, as well as every ounce of darkness within his too-tortured soul, did not faze her anymore. Damon had a segment of her soul – it existed in a now-empty place inside of her that, despite all reason and attempts of fulfilling with another's touches... Another's kisses - only he could fill.

She was pulling on clothes now - anything of which felt remotely like the fabrics she own and hastily brushing them over herself with frantic hands; her eyes were everywhere, but on Stefan - she couldn't think up a decent explanation for him now. There was no time, and therefore, Stefan would either have to await her return as she disappeared into the night or he would have to accompany her. Once dressed, Elena's glanced shifted once more to a now-perplexed Stefan. She inhaled before speaking.

"You're either with me, or you're not Stefan; I'm going to find Damon with or without you," she said, a firm tone she had never recalled within herself before, especially not toward Stefan.

Stefan wrestled with himself for a few seconds, whispering her name occasionally before finally resting upon a valid sentence, accompanied with a nod.

"Very well, two minutes," he sighed before rolling out of bed.

"...I still think that this is a ridiculous idea, Elena. Do you honestly think that Damon, of all people, of all vampires! Would allow himself to come to any sort of dang-"

"Shh!" Elena's hush was direct, an audible indication for Stefan to cease his idle chatter as Elena's eyes focused upon the abandoned shack "He's in here," she paused, before exhaling "On one; one, two... Three!" Elena and Stefan broke free from their crouch and Stefan, using his supernatural speed entered the building with Elena in hot pursuit behind him; once inside, Elena's brown orbs scanned the perimeter of its confines, breathing his name viciously into corners before eyeing a half-opened door at the end of the hall way.

She dashed towards it, soon eyeing a defeated Damon amidst the dirt and darkness; she fell to her knees and coiled her arms around him as she found the strength to speak.

"Damon! Damon, shh, I'm here; I'm here! You're safe now.."

Damon voiced a truly grotesque sound as the vampire violently shoved a knife into his abdomen. A choked yell of pain tumbled unwillingly from his lips as he felt the sharp blade pierce his skin and the Vervain that coated it tackle his veins in a ferocious fight. Everything was burning – his muscles, his skin, his blood. But he refused himself from letting the moisture in his eyes dribble from the rims. There was no way in Hell he was going to grant his opposition that satisfaction. Instead, he clenched his teeth, screwing his face up against the agony. Whoever invented Vervain … He hated them beyond belief.

"This is all you're going to do, is it? Torture me?" Damon snarled venomously, peering dangerously up into the face of his captor, "Why not fight like a real vampire?" he hissed, "Too weak?"

This time, a searing pain lashed across his cheek. He had no idea what the other vampire had used but it definitely had Vervain on or in it. Damon felt the trickle of blood down his jaw. Maybe insulting him wasn't a good idea. But just because it wasn't, didn't mean he was going to stop.

"You killed him!" shrieked the young vampire. Damon wasn't quite sure this creature knew what he was doing. Damon could interpret that he was a new vampire, around 3 or 4 years into the new transition. But this fact did not make Damon sympathise him for his loss. His 'partner' tried to kill Elena! There was no way he was going to get away with that. The only choice he had was to kill him.

"And you think this is going to bring him back? You sadistic m-"

But this time he was cut off by a reverberating bang from beyond the door at his rear. It seemed to throw the man towering above him off guard, as well as Damon. He attempted a glance over his shoulder, but found that if he tried to incline his neck, it ached profusely.

So he stopped, and alternatively watched his opponent skulk from the room, a mixture of curiosity and fear contorting his expression. As he left, his melodic footsteps fading as he stole deeper into what could only be an abandoned shack, Damon breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced down at his mangled midriff, feeling quite sickened at the amount of blood that pooled around the knives that protruded there. He tried struggling against the binds, wanting nothing more than to get the damned things out of him, but every time he pulled at the ropes, it burnt excruciatingly. He sighed, dejectedly.

"Guess I'm gonna die here," he mumbled dolefully to himself.

Stefan darted behind a lopsided cabinet as the vampire snuck fearfully down the corridor, his teeth bared but his eyes wide with horror. Stefan simply watched as he backed himself up against the wall as best he could. He certainly was a young vampire … But why did he want Damon? What he done?

This young creature was indubitably vindictive – Stefan could see it in his posture, in his eyes. But revengeful or not, he couldn't be as bad as Katherine. He could take him. With ease. Tentatively, Stefan counted down from three in his head, building up to a pounce. He slid silently out from the back of the cabinet, eyes gleaming, sharp teeth extended, posture prepared for a momentum-charged pounce.

And then he jumped; the vampire spun, but fell to the ground with a thud.

"Go," Stefan hissed ominously, "Now."

And the vampire fled, leaving Stefan to scour the rest of the secluded shack for Elena.

A creak of a floorboard conveyed that the sadistic bastard was back, and Damon couldn't refuse himself a fatigued groan. But instead of forcing out a witty remark, he let his head loll against his chest, ignoring the slight twinge this floppy action sent through his stomach. But when the hurried footsteps slowed to a stop in front of him, he glanced up, expecting to see that disgusted sneer possibly for the last time. He barely moved his head and the notion. He was so weak it was unbelievable. He felt useless, ridiculous and aghast with himself. Never in his life had he felt so vulnerable. But when he looked up briefly, he didn't see the face of a lanky vampire. He saw-

"Elena," gasped Damon helplessly. Relief rushed through him at the speed of light. But determination joined it. What was she doing? It wasn't safe, she had to leave. "Elena," he repeated, shaking his head, ignoring the ache, "You can't be here, it's not safe, that vampire-"

"Taken care of."

What with not being able to revolve his neck around to look at where the blunt voice had come from, Damon could not see his brother standing in the doorway.

But he knew it was him. He'd recognise that solemn voice anywhere.

"I'm going to check again though," informed Stefan, "Just in case."

Before Damon could present Stefan with the knowledge of there being no more vampires in this flimsy construction, he had vanished on his search around the house. Damon turned back to Elena – he simply buried his face in her shoulder. He was so glad to inhale that scent again, so glad to be this close to her.

"Wouldn't mind taking these knives out, would you?" he asked gruffly, "And these ropes … Sort of hurt."

Elena's humming-bird heart was pounding hard in her chest, as her inhaling and exhaling breathed out in ragged gasps over Damon's face; in fact, at the rate Elena was wheezing, it would seem to an on-looker that she had been the one captured and then tortured - not vice versa. Elena's thin arms remained looped firmly around Damon's battered being as she held him close to her - her fingers caressing circles over the fabric of his shirt. Comforting the fallen immortal, naturally as her lids snapped to a close in an attempt to suppress the seemingly inevitable tears of which begged to breach the barrier of Elena's self-control? The weary human wanted nothing more than to allow Damon to remain in her arms this way, and have each of them belong to the other for now and all eternity... But when were one's wishes granted?

His desperate gasp brought Elena's mind back to the present second as she instantly chided herself for allowing her irrational emotional responses to take over - thus silencing the practical part of her mind. Elena pulled back an inch or two as she took in his haggard - but somehow still beautiful (always beautiful) facial features whilst drinking in his words. Her head shook, determined not to leave his side now, not ever.

"Don't be ridiculous Damon; I'm not leaving you!" her hands shifted from their position at his back and hooked themselves loosely in the dip between his shoulder blades; her expression still struck with astounding relief as she added "I'm not ever leaving you!"

Her thumbs stroked segments of his blood-soaked collar, not caring for the damp substances' red residue staining her skin - only for Damon and that he was safe, and most importantly safe with her. Elena's now-widened orbs searched his exhausted face for a long, breathless moment - unable to murmur a word more in reply for her contentment was exceedingly great. Until, that is the voice of the younger brother echoed through the eerie environment and pierced the accumulated silence. Despite herself, Elena flinched instinctively away from Damon, but not so much that her hands completely released their hold on his shirt - simply lessened the strength. Her head cocked to the side and she regarded Stefan silently - sending him a small smile, one of which he nodded to before exchanging one of his own and ultimately disappearing back into the shadows.

After a bracing gulp, Elena's eyes averted to that of Damon and his fathomless - bottomless ocean orbs; Elena forever seemed lost in those alluring eyes - even now as his usual regal form withered, and his voice lacking in the silky tone Elena had become so accustom to - those glorious eyes never failed in their encapsulating stare. However, Elena's inner marvelling was soon cut abruptly short at Damon's husky whisper and once again, she scolded herself for being so incredibly careless. Her hands set at work immediately, as she grasped hold of the knives with both games.

"This may hurt a little - so brace yourself," she warned in a murmur before yanking each knife out of his fatigue-ridden physique simultaneously. Without further delay, Elena's fingers frantically ripped the ropes from his figure and threw them to the ground - not caring for their exact destination.

And without confirmation from her brain - Elena motioned towards the elder Salvatore and her arms hooped around his torso, thrusting him to her body, gently, but eagerly as her fingers found their way into Damon's hair; she held him tightly, protecting him, hiding him from the world and all of its perverse cruelties. She leant her lips downward and planted several kisses within the locks of his dark, damp hair - secretly making a covenant to herself to always keep him safe and away from the wickedness of the world; Damon was Elena's. He belonged to her.

"You'll be fine; I'm here, always, okay?" she promised in a gentle whisper before shaping her hands from the curve in his neck up towards his sculptured cheekbones; her palms moulded to each side as she brushed her lips against the skin there "I'm so, so glad you're okay - promise me you'll never take off again, promise me!"

The clear droplets of which had thoroughly protested throughout this heart-wrenching scene finally broke free, succeeding in their protest and began streaming down to brunette's cheeks; she slowly pressed her forehead onto his own and cradled him there - praying, hoping they were never to part ever again.

Damon had known that Elena would refuse departure when he was in such a state – and he mentally thanked her for that. If it wasn't for her and Stefan turning up, he'd be in worse a mess, maybe even dead. It wouldn't have been too long until the young vampire would decide to stake him, after all. Despite feeling relatively pissed for being forced into such a damsel in distress position, Damon could not have been happier to see Elena's beauty before him. Once these ropes were cut, he swore to himself that he would embrace her tight in his arms and ignore the pain his potent movements would strike. Just holding her would be worth the sting.

Doing as Elena requested him to do, Damon braced himself with clenched teeth and balled fists as she gripped the metal handles of the knives that pierced his stomach and pulled with strength he had never expected to come from such a petite woman.

He sucked in his stomach as they were yanked out with astonishing force, but allowed it to appreciatively deflate once the Vervain-tainted weapons had advanced from his body. He then watched as Elena hastily unravelled the scorching ropes that pinned his wrists to the arms of the rickety chair, again clenching his teeth as the inflamed red marks at the base of his hands stung terribly. Once all restraining items were discarded, Damon exhaled in relief, flexing his wrists.

"Thanks," he muttered to Elena.

He wanted to smile, to prove he really was thankful, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. So much was stopping him from doing so, as if a thousand reasons were weighing down the muscles in his face. He examined the redness on his wrists, frowning at the raw and bloody skin. Then he glanced down at the stab wounds dominating his previously impeccable structure, sniffing at the amount of blood that drenched his expensive shirt.

But the sodden shirt was the least of his worries at the moment; he felt awfully weak, thanks to the Vervain-laced weapons used upon him against his will. Without his strength and his capability, he felt tediously vulnerable. It had to be the worst feeling in the world.

But Elena's fingers in his hair, and her warm, comforting body against the distorted mess that was his seemed to numb the despondent emotions Damon was feeling about his own potency. He rested his own hand upon her back and held her close, as close as his feeble form would manage. He closed his heavy lids as she gently kissed his hair. It was then that, from now on, he was sure everything would be alright.

Upon Elena's compelling words, Damon nodded, but with a slightly indistinct frown. Would Elena stay true to her word? She had said something meaningful before but … Once again, it had proven to have no meaning whatsoever. He wanted to ask her if she really would always be there, but he refrained from doing so. For now, he buried his doubts deep within the steel confines of his mind, and instead focused on the promise she had demanded from him. How could he promise that? He didn't know how nor why he should, but he did, nonetheless, for her. Always for her.

"Promise," repeated Damon, with a wry and unconvincing smile.

He was aware of how fake that expression would look to Elena, but he didn't care. He was in too much pain to heed. Instead, he closed his eyes as their foreheads met in a mildly affectionate gesture, and took the moment to even his breathing. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Elena was crying, but her tears, whether melancholic or otherwise, triggered a tighter hold around her slender form. But the moment was interrupted by a nervous cough, and Damon glanced sideways to find Stefan standing in the doorway – again.

He was looking at them rather uncannily, but Damon disregarded it. He knew what his younger brother must be thinking, but those thoughts could not blossom into something bigger. Stefan knew nothing about what had happened between his older sibling and Elena – he couldn't have any suspicions, right?

"It's all clear. We should get you home …" said Stefan, with a concerned frown, "Both of you."

The surface of her smooth lips tingled from their interaction both with the strands of Damon's midnight-black hair as well as the touch of his jawline. This wasn't supposed to happen this way - Elena and Damon, in each other's arms yet again - but fighting fate was a losing battle, as Elena was so obviously discovering, finding herself once more wrapped in the arms of the elder brother. Damon Salvatore. Her eyebrows scrunched together, forming a messy line across her forehead as she sucked in a harsh inhale of air, as if preparing herself both mentally and physically for the unavoidable, nevertheless dreaded moment they would once again have to part.

Secretly, Elena craved stolen moments such as this that allowed her to freely and ultimately bask in a world of which one could only dream of, thus unleashing hidden, irrevocable emotions that had long-eluded both her own mind and many others around her. But not Damon's... Never Damon's. And upon that thought, as if echoing the defined certainties within the brunette's mind - Damon answered her demand in a response Elena would hold steadfast to, conceivably as long as she lived. He'd vowed never to stray from her again; in turn Elena had promised both the immortal and herself the same. For, her doubtlessly forsaken heart was tainted, that was true - but her mind was uncertain in regards to how many more inner blows her said heart could take.

Elena's eyes flickered down to his perfectly pouted mouth as she noted the well-tailored shape his mouth had curved into. Many a person would've been fooled by the elder Salvatore's charm as well as the deceitful smile of which he now wore so well. And in spite of Elena's surrender to his obvious charisma, she was resistant towards few tricks the brother performed. And this was one of them. Ignoring Damon's hesitant vow, Elena opened her mouth to speak once again but was halted by the sound of footsteps and then her boyfriend's oddly monotone voice; her brown orbs shifted to Stefan's leaf greens as she attempted to suss some sort of reasoning for his unusual behaviour and then came to the further realisation her current position was not that of expected towards one's significant other's elder sibling. With a tired sigh, Elena unravelled her arms, fairly quickly from around Damon and nodded at Stefan's suggestion.

"Sure," she said simply and before brushing herself down.

She leant down to Damon, helping him arise.

Though still ready to burst with rage, Damon was unusually calm for someone who had been callously tortured. Maybe it was his riveting ability to maintain emotional control, or maybe it was his brother being there. All these things were contributing factors to his ever-growing relief, but Damon was convinced that it was mainly due to Elena's presence. Her very appearance seemed to assure him that everything would be fine, alike her soothing tones and gentle kisses to the blood-stained skin upon his cheek and neck. Elena didn't seem to care that blood coated her fingers in bright crimson. All she seemed to be worried about was him; his safety, his state. This thought generated a tighter hold around the small girl in his arms. He squeezed her comfortingly, thanking her and emitting transferring as many emotions as he could through that firm embrace. Damon didn't want to speak – actions were enough.

But dismay overwhelmed him as he felt Elena's arms loosen on his waist. He couldn't deny that he had been expecting her to retract her affections upon Stefan's appearance. He had just hoped she wouldn't.

Along with Elena, Damon nodded his head, appreciating the final cue to get out of this place. It was beyond disgusting. No wonder the rampant vampire had chosen to take him here – it was clear that nobody ever or ever would come here. He couldn't be more than happy to leave. Quite honestly, he missed the pretty living room of the Boarding House – his own home was a palace compared to this bomb site. As eager to get out of the shack as he was to regain his strength with a healthy dosage of blood, Damon willingly allowed Elena to help him onto his feet. He draped his arm over her shoulders and hoisted himself to his feet with her aid, flinching at the spasm of pain in his stomach. He silently cursed the vindictive vampire who had shoved those Vervain-tainted knifes into him.

If only he had the potency to get him back … He had a lot of ideas about what he would do to the rancorous fugitive.

They were back at the boarding house now and the sun's early dawn rays began penetrating through the margin of slits in between several almost closed curtains in the boarding house; Elena allowed a tender yawn to caress her lips as her eye lids fluttered; with her adrenaline now drained from her system Elena was well and truly ready for the compulsory comfort of her cosy double bed. However, Stefan's voice caught her off-guard and she spun slightly before furrowing the both of her eyebrows and answering, with a nod, none the less.

"Yes, of course," Elena replied with a soft smile and then wandered towards Damon; coupled a final apologetic look towards Stefan, she took Damon's arm and led him up the stairwell.

And in regards to what exactly Elena's compassionate glance had been in aid of - she wasn't convinced it had been out of regret for previous acts... But instead, for the acts of which Elena felt were bound to occur once the pair of forbidden lovers reached their destination. Damon's bedroom.

Back at the Boarding House, Damon had disregarded any of the conversation commencing in the main room. He was too busy concocting a plan to get even, as well as focusing his remaining vigour on healing the cuts on his cheek and the stab wounds on his midriff. But it wasn't working – the Vervain had robbed every remaining powerful thing about him. Again, he cursed the illicit vampire. Though finally free of the dark and dirty enclosures of the shack, he still felt as vulnerable as a baby rabbit hunted by a lion. He'd never felt so useless – he hated it.

Damon was about to interrupt Stefan's wise and brotherly speech to state that he was going upstairs to rest, but Elena was heading his way, looking as if she was about to lead him somewhere. Damon didn't complain – he permitted her to take his arm and take him upstairs. He hadn't discerned her apologetic smile to Stefan; he was too focused on getting up the winding staircase without tumbling backwards. Every tentative step was met with a throb and an involuntary flinch, until at long last they approached the top of the suddenly daunting stairway. Damon heaved a sigh of relief, and then entered the second door on the left. His bedroom.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	9. Satin Sheets & Lustful Longings Pt 1

**A/N: Hey guys! Firstly, we'd both like to say thank you for your subscriptions and your reviews; they're awesome! And regarding queries as to changing POV's and whatnot, last chapter I originally slotted in a line of '***' but they didn't appear in the final chapter, which kinda' pissed me off, but hey! ;D But we shall make sure it's slightly clearer next time. (; Any who, this is our first two-parter chapter and we hope you enjoy it; and remember.. READSUBSCRIBE&REVIEW. :) **

**Chapter 9:** **Satin Sheets & Lustful Longings Part 1.**

Elena's hand remained anchored into Damon's forearm as they continued the dreaded journey to the elder Salvatore's bedroom; upon arriving at what seemed to be the door to the forbidden fortress that no doubt countless other girls had sauntered and made their way through, Elena hesitated slightly, realising that Damon perhaps didn't need her hand in order to stabilise himself and allowed Damon to pass by her and into the now-revealed bedroom. Elena's hand palmed lightly upon the door as she motioned over the threshold, her eyes widening as she drank in her surroundings; Elena's fingers fumbled with the door behind her, slowly shutting it, never halting her eyes from their exploring around Damon's huge, spacious and undeniably magnificent bedroom. And despite her best attempts not to let her awe escape - Elena's voice spoke without her mind's consent.

"Whoa..." she breathed, a gentle smile tugging at her lips as she moved further into the space and added "I've never been in your room before."

A second or so later, the realisation of what she had just uttered struck her and Elena inwardly chided herself, knowing exactly how Damon would perceive her words. However, determined not to let him discover the beauty of his bedroom had distracted her, Elena walked towards a lingering Damon of who was now at the foot of his bed; she rolled her eyes and jabbed her finger towards the bed.

"You, bed," she almost ordered before continuing as her hand planted itself tenderly, but forcefully upon his chest "Sit, now" this time it was a direct instruction of which Damon had no choice but to obey.

Once Elena's arm had made itself known upon his torso, Elena's back arched a degree as she bent down and her hands gripped his shirt collar; in her mind she tried to deny how sexual the scene to an on-looker would be conceived, and also, the images it made her recall... Her nimble digits soon departed from his collar and began busying themselves down the centre line of his blood-stained shirt and released each button, one by one from their seal of his shirt; within no time her fingers were through with half of his shirt and she had unthinkingly forged her body closer to his own. Her slender jean-sheathed legs were now either side of his own as her finger-tips began occasionally brushing Damon's skin, of which was now rapidly being revealed. Biting hard onto her lower lip, feeling the gaze of Damon's smouldering blue orbs burn into her being Elena heard a sentence betray her lips.

"And no, you can stop that thought before it even registers," she rebuked in a firm tone, glancing from his chest and suddenly regretting it as the moment her eyes caught his own she felt the strongest, wildest urge to take him, and his perfectly pouted lips then and there...

But if Elena had learnt anything over the time period of dating Stefan Salvatore, and thus resulting in forcing herself to deny Damon's every advance - it was that of restraint. And despite letting her overwhelming desire for this immortal overwhelm her once, she wouldn't allow it to happen again. She couldn't allow it to.

Damon's bedroom was what most would've expected from him. The design matched his usual attire; black, relatively casual, but expensive, in a way. Certain areas of the large, spacious room were sleek, whereas other parts were studious and casual.

Near the centre of the room, atop a well-polished hardwood floor, was a king-size four-poster bed, draped in black sheets of fine satin. Aside from that was a large, heavily curtained window, beneath which was a window-ledge lined with various records that looked dusty and untouched. By the side of the bed in front of a matching bed-side table was a crooked pile of threadbare volumes, apparently vacating their proper positions upon a bookshelf on an opposing wall, alongside various medical remedies. There wasn't much else in the room, besides a large, plasma screen TV beside the walk-shower, upon which he often observed the news.

It was never really used for leisure of out of sheer boredom – Damon had much better, much more exciting things to do than to lounge around uselessly and watch television. He would snort at the idea. Conclusively, the room was quite handsome. It was simple, but contrasted excellently with Damon's sense of style. Anybody would be able to match him to the room, without even a moment's hesitation.

"Yes. That's a shame," stated Damon with a grin. It really was unfortunate that she had never been in his room before. After all, it was used for various doings Elena would've certainly enjoyed. "Many have reacted similarly when seeing my room. Like it, huh?" He gestured to the finely decorated space with a cock of his head.

But he didn't have long to contemplate her expression. As if realising she'd said something awful inappropriate, Elena's face fell, and she pushed him down forcefully onto the bed with one surprisingly strong hand.

This split second of feminine control was quite enticing, but Damon restrained himself from smirking. This proved nonsensically difficult. All thoughts of resting after such a tragically embarrassing and unfortunate night had fled his mind as Elena leant down to un-do the buttons on his shirt (a black shirt, ironically matching the bed sheets). His eyes did not once leave her face as she seemed to focus all concentrating on just getting off his shirt. It was an amusing sight; Damon could distinctly tell that she was struggling – but this just thrilled him even more.

He opened his mouth to voice an impish remark but, as if telepathically embracing his thoughts, Elena cut him off with a remark of her own.

"Wasn't gonna say anything," Damon smiled innocently, his ice-blue eyes dancing.

Though the pain in his stomach was still throbbing ominously, he seemed not to care. He was alone with Elena once again, and her motions were enough to get him going.

Numerous notions plagued his mind as Elena's fingers occasionally brushed the skin on his chest. Was that purposeful? He mused contemplatively. Bet it wasn't, was the answer his mind concocted. This time, his smirk was inevitable. And his eyes decided to venture away from her face and instead of pretty much every inch of the slender form that towered over him. As if possessing a mind of their own, his arms slowly reached up to trace fingers along her arms. His skin tingled where it touched her. For so long he'd wanted to feel that tingle again.

A feeling deep within the bit of her stomach began to accumulate as her eyes remained locked upon his scorching blue orbs; every features, every twitch of his body, his face was perfection - Elena often wondered how a person, how a being could be as utterly flawless in appearance as the creature that was Damon Salvatore. And every time she did so, the mortal received no real answer. However, the moment Damon's eyes flickered towards her other assets, she was finally able to tear her own away from his heart-breakingly beautiful complexion and focus upon the task at hand. Well, at least that was what Elena had assumed giving the new found freedom he'd casually offered the girl. Elena's fingers managed to finish the task at hand and every one of his buttons had now been undone - leaving his black shirt to billow with an undeniable provocative edge.

Shaking her head a notch and inwardly banishing all thoughts involving both Damon and anything relating even remotely to a sexual content - she opened her mouth to reply to his defensive response before freezing at the touch of his smooth finger-tips. She felt every nerve ending in her body electrify at the mere simplicity of his touch as he tentatively began trailing his fingers down her arm; her lips parted ever so slightly and she felt a shiver slither down her spine - for a moment, she couldn't move and Damon was in complete control of her every move, her every thought... Until, that is Elena rebuked herself harshly and flinched from his questionable contact as her eyes flashed red; Elena removed her hands from their location at the bottom of his shirt and Elena grasped his face with her right hand, leaving her thumb to linger at his lower lip as she spoke.

"I'm only helping you, because you're hurt," she said sternly as her eyes scolded him "That doesn't give you the right to touch me," Elena finished, releasing his face and swiftly making her way towards the shelves containing various medical substances of which her exploring eyes had noted earlier.

She leant upwards to the second highest shelf and retrieved a bottle of anti-septic as well as a white hand towel; adjusting herself to her traditional height, Elena returned to her position in front of Damon, but only now found herself kneeling on the ground. Elena coupled the items together in one hand as her other separated his legs - she shot him a warning glance before resting her aiding devices upon the satin sheets and stripping Damon fully, and easily of his shirt. But, even Elena Gilbert couldn't resist a quick gander of his toned torso; he had the bone structure of a god, even with the bloody blemishes.

She swallowed hard, as she attempted to set her mind back onto the straight and narrow and set at her work; she moulded herself in between his legs and poured a small pool of solution over the towel before reaching up and dabbing the material onto his largest cut. Her neglected hand had somehow found its way to Damon's thigh and was refusing to cease its hold.

Though he would never admit it, Elena's sudden withdraw slightly hurt Damon. He could tell that she had wanted to stay there, to relish in the sensation of his fingers on her skin, so why didn't she? Nothing had stopped her before. What was stopping her now? He said nothing as she advanced on him, much alike a provoked cat. He merely watched her in bemusement, blue on brown, and continued to do so when she pulled away from him to dig through the various remedies he kept on a shelf, just in case situations like this one occurred. A thousand varying questions seemed to clog up Damon's mind as he watched her rummage, though none of which he was up to contemplating and pondering on. Over the years he'd been immortal, he'd learnt that thinking things over way too much caused more pain than to begin with. That was where the hard-surfaced, robust, steel shield came in – it stopped things like this from getting too much for Damon; too complicating.

Damon persisted to remain silent until Elena returned with a bottle of antiseptic and a white hand towel and settled herself between his legs. Of course, he took notice of her frantic visual warning and absorbed it instantly. But it didn't last long. Like he cared about what she claimed to want. He knew what she wanted, even if it was deep, deep down. He would always know, because it would never change.

Damon relaxed his shoulders as Elena slid off the rest of his shirt with ease. He could tell she feared a reaction from him, but he granted to keep her fears at bay and reacted not even once. As if he were a casualty patient and she were a doctor, he relaxed his torso and closed his eyes against the now more potent spasms of pain as she settled herself more comfortably in front of him. Another spasm shot through him as her hand came to rest upon his denim-clad thigh, but this was not a painful jolt. It was quite the opposite.

Yet, with much difficulty but with respect, he kept his mouth shut, leaving it all to the imagination.

It was strange how the slightest touch, or the slightest brush of skin, brought back so many different memories of previous happenings between Damon and Elena. Just then, he remembered the tomb, remembered how she so willingly gave herself up to him. And then the kiss, outside before the rain, before he sprinted into all of this trouble …

Damon felt an ache in his heart, but remained still. He heard the rustle of sheets as Elena leant forwards to place the towel to his wounds, and then after a few seconds of nothing-

"Ouch!" he gasped. His eyes flew open as he flinched away from Elena, "What the hell is that stuff?" he demanded, grabbing the bottle from beside him and examining the label. He hadn't remembered antiseptic to sting so bloody much. But then again … He'd never really had to use it before. At least, not for 145 years.

Now Elena knew if Stefan, or anyone for that matter, especially Stefan were to witness the scene unfolding right now then appropriate would definitely not be a word selected in their vocabulary; it puzzled Elena to an unheard of degree why Stefan would ponder, and then actually execute his suggestion for Elena to firstly lead his elder brother up to his bedroom and further tend to his wounds; surely Stefan must've realised, or at least over-viewed the possible outcomes of this scenario? Could Stefan whole heartedly say to her he didn't think, not even for the smallest amount of a second that Elena would be experiencing any of the feelings she was currently undergoing? Surely he couldn't be all that oblivious to Damon and Elena's profound feelings for one another... And for once, Elena was relieved at Damon's distraction, but reacted in a completely contrasting way to how she had before.

Each side of her lips tugged skyward as a smile threatened to break across her lips; it wasn't that Elena was receiving some sort of sadistic pleasure from the harm of which she had admittedly inflicted upon the vampire - it was merely that he was acting like such a... Elena searched the realms of her mind in order to find a word of which would match - and finally, she did so. Human. Damon's response had been so mortal-like that, upon the realisation, Elena grinned before rolling her eyes in a sarcastic gesture before pouring a little more antiseptic onto the cloth and placing it softer this time onto his skin.

"Oh, get a grip would you," she replied in a low hush, attempting to tame her genuine smile.

As if instinctively, Elena found herself shuffling closer to him as one hand held down the towel and the other remained at his thigh; she shifted her torso, patting the material around his largest wound. It was at that precise second that Elena felt the muscles of her lower abdomen brush against the centre of Damon's trousers; she halted, mid-rub before finding herself caress the area once again before forcing her mind to concentrate upon the task at hand rather than how their lower regions were attracting. But it was hard... God, it was.

With a disapproving huff, Damon tossed the bottle back onto the bed again; bracing himself for more stings that he would not have felt had he been stronger. For a third time that morning, he silently cursed the vampire who got him into this mess, and once more vowed to hunt down the bastard and kill him in the most imaginative way possible. Damon used his uncannily wide imagination as a distraction from the nasty jolts he was receiving from continuous applications of damned antiseptic. Instead of focusing on the pain, he focused on creative ways of killing enemy vampires. It was a great distraction. Almost pleasurable. He could use a stake, but … that would just be dull. And way too quick. There was beheading, fire, direct sunlight (Damon noticed that vampire didn't have a ring alike his own), and a number of other things he could think of. Vervain included, he thought grimly. One thing better than getting revenge was getting even.

Damon smirked to himself at this truthful fact. Getting even may not be the best or kindest option, but it sure was the most enjoyable.

"Personally," began Damon in a highly matter-of-fact tone, amidst his gory daydreams. "I think you should get a grip too. But hey, I'm being polite and keeping my mouth zipped." He couldn't resist an impish smile towards Elena as she continued to press the towel to his bloody stab wounds and did a terrible job in concealing her own true smile.

Damon resisted yet another pain-generated flinch and instead buried himself – once again – into the depths of his magnificent creativity. He truly admired himself when it came to thinking up death fantasies. He liked to think that Shakespeare would be jealous. Elena's shuffling generated general discomfort for Damon, and he also found himself rearranging his position. But, much alike Elena, he stopped mid-movement, quite startled at the sudden interaction between their most sensitive areas.

"Ok, I wasn't expecting you to get a grip now …" commented Damon with a cynical chuckle.

He knew that this action was involuntary, but it was just the perfect opportunity to play on it. He knew he'd wind Elena up. But maybe he'd lure her in a bit more, too. After all, who could resist his cheeky little comments?

The almost constant gyrate of Elena's lower abdomen against Damon's sent numerous jolts of pleasure throughout her body, as urges to deny all logic and straddle herself around him became increasingly hard to ignore. At this instant, the brunette wanted nothing more than to allow Damon to satisfy her untameable needs, as well as her seemingly unquenchable desire for this man. Even as her hands worked their way all over his body, stroking over various cuts and grazes, Elena's mind never once drifted from the intoxicating concoction of mild irritation and severe lust; and naturally, Damon had realised this and doubtlessly used it to his advantage. Her dark orbs flashed skyward as she caught Damon's eye line as well as the satisfied smirk planted so dominantly across his faultless features.

Merely narrowing her eyes a degree at Damon's jibe regarding the provocative motion of her hips against his own, Elena chose the last part of his statement to comment upon and allowed a laugh of utter disbelief to pass her lips whilst nodding.

"Yes, you're right, Damon," she muttered, the air of sarcasm obvious within her tone as she agilely switched to his left side and added "But, seriously; when have you EVER been polite?" she said with a small snort, tending to the large slashes across his flawless physique; and although her gentle grinding had ceased, it was her pesky hand, of which using a mind of its own shifted further upwards, her palm tingling due to the light friction.

Right then and there Elena vowed to herself never to be left alone with a shirtless Damon again; but, although she made the promise - her heart longed for the opposite.

Damon experienced great satisfaction in his effect upon indomitable, resolute Elena. She seemed overly focused on not reacting to his remarks and swift comments, that she couldn't help but. She seemed relatively irritated with herself. Damon's smirk widened. He knew what was going through her mind, what was poisoning her innocence. It was blatant in the way she held herself and the expression that her complexion possessed. Yet he refrained from handing her this knowledge by remaining quiet about his own.

Damon simply watched her with mild amusement as she persisted to press the antiseptic soaked towel to numerous holes and slices in his skin. He used her as a distraction from the stinging the remedy generated upon the bloody wounds; her face, her hair, her eyes, the way her fingers tended with a delicate touch to his mutilated form with apparent flair. Maybe she'd done this before.

"Since when have you EVER not liked it?" scoffed Damon in a similar tone to Elena's, his eyes still exploring her face. "You look good when you're concentrating," he commented, smirking, "But I know where those hands would do a better job."

It was typically Damon; he played with his food before he ate it. At least, in most circumstances. He knew that this particular comment would get to Elena somehow, but just in case he misunderstood his own admittance into her thoughts, he reached out and traced his index finger oh-so-lightly over the hand that gripped his thigh.

"Why did you save me?" he questioned quietly, observing as his finger drew invisible, intricate patterns on the skin on the back of her stilled hand. He frowned. "After you said that … what we did and what we said meant nothing. That it couldn't mean anything. You must've realised that I was worth saving for a reason, other than because I'm Stefan's brother and-" he paused, suddenly experiencing an epiphany. He looked up at her quite abruptly, suspicion alive in his eyes. "How did you know where I was?"

Why was it so that Damon had the strongest and most persistent stare out of every being Elena had ever encountered? Every shift his blazing blue orbs made, no matter how insignificant Elena was able to recall where they'd relocated to. Perhaps it was more so the fact of how he made her feel not only completely different to how anyone else could, but how every little emotion, every mere brush of skin was magnified and intensified by one thousand. And although her hands were almost constantly busying themselves at Damon's torso, with no doubt occasionally putting a little more pressure than needed, when getting the impression a snarky comment were to escape his lips... She mentally cursed him, firstly for being so unnervingly attractive and then herself for being so drawn to him.

Elena allowed an amused, but tired, not the less huff slip from the slight part in between her two lips as her eyes raised from their fixture upon Damon's blemished torso. Each of her brown brows shot up, complimenting not on the prior sound she'd made but also her further comment.

"You can be such an arrogant dick sometimes," she paused, cocking her head to the side, mirroring the action of which Damon had done so many times before "Oh, wait - you are ALL the time," she muttered; and the moment Elena was about to return to her nursing duties, his next sentence caught her attention and she narrowed her eyes a degree further, scowling at him "Well..."

Her entire frame halted its casual movement at touch of his skin against her own and although her reflex reaction would've been to slap his hands away - she couldn't... Not as his forefinger began tracing so delicately, so tentatively across the skin there.

She sucked in a huge breath, and instead of locking eyes with the immortal, she looked at their hands. Her eyes widened a little and her expression mellowed, but it hadn't completely softened.

"I saved you... I saved you because you didn't deserve to die because you'd given your life for me; that's why," she replied, attempting to sound indifferent but not quite managing it; his words, his sorrow were like daggers to her heart and she knew how his features would've been fixed and she just couldn't face that; however, at his further question regarding Elena's excellent Damon-tracking, she snatched her hand away and her face hardened "How am I supposed to know? Vampires... Vampires are predictable!"

Of course, Damon knew that he was an arrogant dick and often took great pride in that. The trait got him places and frequently lured in various women who turned out to be quite delicious. After all, who didn't like a quirky male with a sufficient appetite? Most women would throw themselves at his first upon first glance, but Elena … She was different. She was a tougher nut to crack. It took more than just a simple tool to break the way through. But Damon was prepared to go to such lengths, and would not give up until he finally succeeded in cracking her shell.

"But that shack was in the middle of nowhere. And I've only ever been there as a human."

Damon didn't believe that that was the only reason Elena had rushed to his rescue. As much as he despised his experience of becoming a damsel in distress, he couldn't not be thankful for her help.

To prove that he really did appreciate what she'd done for him, he smiled at her – by now ignoring the significance of how she'd found him - but it was the smallest most indistinct of smiles as of yet. The way she slapped his hand away from hers threw him off guard a miniscule amount; once again, she was being coherent and Damon didn't like it. He knew she wanted to give in, to push down the barriers she had up, keeping him out, keeping her in, but she'd learnt well from his younger brother. She was resisting, and tremendously well.

"Elena," murmured Damon, discarding his thankful smile and replacing it with a sober gaze. For the second time, he extended his arm towards her, but instead of trailing his fingers across her stationary hand, he lifted it to her face and caught a strand of her hair between his fingers. Fluidly, gracefully and carefully, he tucked it back behind her ear, before dropping his hand to the base of her neck.

He stroked it lightly. "Don't tell me you don't feel anything when I touch you." His voice of confidence and arrogance had been replaced by one of an apprehensive whisper, so feeble that only Elena would be able to hear it. He watched her expectantly, assuming she would react in some way. She had to. What was he to do if she didn't?

Elena's eyes were scorching fires as they burned their way over his faultlessly sculptured face and ultimately captured his gaze - she held it firmly, without falter, as if encouraging Damon to once again provoke her; how could someone of whom one cared deeply for agitate them so much? It was as though if Damon and Elena weren't fighting with fists or battling with words then they were succumbing to their forbidden, nevertheless intense desire for one another. Without a doubt, it perplexed the human, and angered her - but the reality of the situation was not the reason she'd chosen to air her feelings through aggression, it was because she was scared. No, she was petrified; Damon brought forth a side of her, buried in the vast depths of her soul that had remained recessive for a reason, but around Damon it was unleashed.

Their love was intoxicating and it overwhelmed her, enveloped her until Elena could no longer decipher what was correct and proper, and in contrast what was the opposite. But Elena could never voice that; she could never attempt to make anyone understand, not Damon and especially not Stefan. Building upon this, she decided denying him was the only solution. It had to be. And in harsh irony, Elena was caught off guard completely by the soothing murmur of Damon's voice - it had lost its arrogance and adopted a new tone... That of sincerity? No, that couldn't possibly be right - Damon and sincerity were not things of which could be related to each other in any way. The thought just wasn't conceivable; but like many things regarding the elder Salvatore, he wasn't predictable by any means.

Her eyes opened to their usual capacity as she inhaled shaky breaths, her top teeth leaning themselves into the soft skin at her lower lip as she contemplated a reaction. His words sent shudders down her spine, and for a moment or two, Elena felt like giving in to the teasing temptation, but luckily; her self-control kicked in and she flinched away from him.

"When will you learn?" She said, angrily before tossing the bottle along with the towel to the ground and slapping his hand; she once again forced him against the satin sheets, only this time found herself on top of him, her legs astride of each of his hips as she added "To keep your damn hands to yourself?"

He couldn't take his eyes off her lips; the perfect shape of them, their flawless shade of dusky-rose, the way her teeth grazed them in perceptible preparation. All these factors programmed irrevocable covetousness to pulse through him. Genuine need was all he felt at the current time, and if he didn't vanquish that need with what he wanted most, he didn't know what he would do. He was out of heartfelt comments, so that could be scratched off the list. He could say something that would relate to Elena's abstinence, but he was certain she was well aware of it. So he kept his mouth shut. Besides, he could see it in her eyes … She wanted him. All sobrieties aside, she so wanted him.

"Elena-" he began in suppliant tones, but was cut off by a vigorous blow to the chest. Before he knew it, he found himself falling backwards onto the sensually-soft sheets of his black bedding.

Damon hadn't been expecting a reaction as fiery as this, but a complaint didn't spring to mind. Her potency and her badly-concealed ardency were enough to generate a zealous pounding rhythm in his chest, and he found himself wanting her more than he originally thought. Her domineering position and formidable hold over him shot a lust-drive scorching through his veins, heating his blood and tackling every muscle that shaped him.

It took several seconds for Damon to register that what had just happened had actually happened, until he finally responded with redoubtable enthusiasm, the infamous Salvatore smirk gracing his lips with its presence once more.

Her chest in-flated and de-flated as her hands anchored onto his shoulders holding him down; and like a switch fixed within the realms of her subconscious, Elena felt her inner wall slowly deteriorate as she, in one swift, fluid motion, caught Damon's lips in her own and began kissing him; profusely.

"My, my," Damon breathed, his heart racing at the feisty yet dulcet words that whirled from Elena's lips. "Say goodbye to your asceticism." It was all he could say, for Elena had advanced on him in evident defeat, pressing her lips hungrily against his, obstructing any more words from escaping his pout.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	10. Satin Sheets & Lustful Longings Pt 2

**A/N: Firstly, a HUGE thank you to everyone of who's added a review recently/subscribed to us, we heart you all immensely! (Especially you guys who review every chapter – you're like gods. ;]) And as a side-note, we'd like you all to know that we do read and take in EVERYONE'S reviews in an attempt to make our chapters flow easier as well as keep you guys on edge. (: We've seen a couple of reviews that mention Elena's 'out-of-character' reactions toward Damon; this is partly true. HOWEVER, not everything is as it seems, and all I shall say is that she 'physically can't help it'; care to ponder in a review? (; And to answer another question, we have been watching the current season and I shall say one thing – if Damon dies.. I'm not watching it. How about you guys? Toss us a review on the chapter and any of the above notions – we'd MORE THAN LOVE to hear from you. ;)**

**Chapter 10: Satin Sheets & Lustful Longings Part 2.**

There was no build up to such a ravenous moment. There was no gentle, tender beginning. The avidity was abrupt, much to Damon's pleasure. He complemented Elena's firm hold and voracious kisses with his own solid grip on her hips, grasping at the cloth-covered flesh. He moulded his lips hungrily against hers, meeting them in perfect, fervent contrast after what seemed an unbearably long time. Tasting her again, feeling her again … It sent violent tremors through his body.

"Elena," breathed Damon, in between kisses he was so reluctant to interrupt. "Tell him – Stefan - … He has to know-"

Damon slid his hands beneath the fabric of her shirt, shifting it aside to grant his fingers access to bare skin. He trailed his fingertips over every inch of smooth skin he could reach, relishing in the warmth emitting from her body and hoping to receive some sort of spoken response from Elena. Maybe his name on her tongue? Anything to confirm it really was her straddling him.

Severe sexual satisfaction began pumping through every one of Elena's veins, urging her onward as she continued to force her hungry lips against his own; she'd said before how Damon was a covet, her covet, and now that statement only seemed to ring true as her desire to be with him this way, for their lips to be caressing and their body's to be moulded against one another's, had become all-too-much for the young mortal to handle. Attempting to comprehend the seriousness and un doubtable the intense hold both Damon and Elena had over each other would be a fool's task, as it was far too complex and immovable for an outsider to possibly even begin to understand. Zealous-laced kisses were exchanged between the passionate pair as the mortal and the immortal once again caved to the thing the both of them craved the utter most and of which for them both was indeed the hardest to resist. Each other.

It was true that whilst her self-control had been abolished, many would deem the brunette as a weak victim to the sins of which lust and avid-giving's brought unto her; and a section of the girl would agree with that particular point of view. But, the thrill and fervent pleasure of which finally engulfed her body, as in the words of Damon Salvatore himself, asceticism had been ultimately vanquished. And she liked it. In fact, her feelings were far more profuse than merely 'liking' - she thrived within the diminish of her mental barriers; barriers of which had been formed for one purpose and one purpose only - to chain her dearest desires from running wild. However, Elena could forsake her heart no more and decided from this moment on, she would relish. And relish she did.

Upon feeling Damon's hands snake their way up and over the once-concealed skin at her chest Elena willingly leant her chest into his hands, allowing him to grasp every inch of her that was attainable to him from the position he was at and whimpering softly at the sheer delight of his touch, and into his moving mouth. Although, amongst the elder brother's gasps of pleasure, a mixture of words of which she could only apprehend seven, complimented by a string of moans. She found herself nodding, incapable of appreciating them fully and powerless to halt her desperate need for him.

"Damon...Anything, anything you wish," she whispered, her lips breaking their hold upon his own, grazing along his jawline and then settling for a few prolonged seconds at his neck; she began sucking the skin their whilst her centre grinded itself against his hardened arousal, she moaned delicately.

Damon's fingers continued to freely explore the centre portion of Elena's striking figure whilst his lips persisted to dominate hers, heightening their arousal to lose themselves in one another's pleasurable notions. Elena's hair poured around her oval face in shimmery waves, tickling his face, neck and bare chest. Her compelling hold over him, both physical and mental, was hypnotic. Everything about this intoxicating female was a siren, a beckoned call. Damon never wanted to take his hands off her, nor did he want her to take her hands off him. They were born and bred to be this way; immortal and mortal, connected in the most meaningful way possible.

Damon hooked a finger into the collar of Elena's subtle shirt, and with one fluid motion unclasped most of the buttons that shielded her body from view. He slid his hand desperately beneath the shoulder of the shirt and shoved it roughly aside, wanting nothing more than to overindulge in what hovered above him, assuming a position of vast leadership.

Damon's other hand weaved itself within the tangles of her luscious, brown hair, gripping fistfuls of it and threading it through his fingers. He deepened their kiss, parting her fervent lips with his tongue. He ran it licentiously over her bottom lip, before grasping the delicate skin tenderly between his teeth, generating a groan to erupt from his throat via his own parted orifice. By now, all thoughts and feelings of pain from last night's and the early morning's happenings had fled his mind – if any of this ravenous behaviour was inflicted jolts and stings at his chest, then he barely noticed them. Once again, Elena was serving as his gracious distraction from all things negative.

Reality, pain, regret and guilt were all forgotten as both vampire and human commenced with their lustful schedule. The four things that would physically, mentally and verbally conflict Damon were drowning within a colossal pool of innermost desire – desire that only Elena seemed palpable of communicating with. Her fire, full-bodied and robust behaviour amidst circumstances such as the one occurring were everything that awoke the volatile beast inside him; a beast that – until recently – had remained dormant since his last eccentric and exciting affiliation.

"Elena-" gasped Damon as she grinded against him and freed his lips.

His hand now gripped the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him as she worked her way down his jaw line, sucking the base of his neck, sending immense pleasure coursing through his veins. He reclined his neck to allow her additional access.

He wanted to fully voice out his thoughts, but found that at every kiss and every touch the passionate pair exchanged, he was forced to digress. He gave up on trying to explain to Elena how it was important she tell Stefan what was going on between them and instead hooked his fingers around the crook of her knee and, in a fluid, speedy twist, switched their positions. He settled himself between her parted thighs, his fingers still gripping her leg, a hand still tangled in her locks. He took less than a second to look at her, before seizing her lips again in another hungry kiss and tearing the rest of the simple shirt from her body with artistic gesticulation. He found that he was involuntarily grinding himself against Elena, and the slight friction forced jolts of excitement through him.

How the two had managed to interlock themselves in such an unfortunately amazing situation was a vast mystery to Damon. But it was everything he wanted, wrong or not. If it felt right to Damon, then he would settle on it being right. Nobody else's opinion would ever matter.

Elena's mouth continued to make it known upon Damon's chest as her lips sustained their plague of fervent kisses across the smooth skin there; her teeth grazed teasing patterns whilst her tongue licked long, wet trails, tasting his wonderful complexion. Elena's lips did often meet with various cuts and slices; but that did not however deter the brunette from the said task at hand – in fact, it influenced her further to continue. The tangy taste of the crimson rust of Damon's blood lingered within her taste buds as her tongue slickly rolled over each one she approached; Elena wanted to taste every single part of him, for her lips to kiss, suck and nibble even the most insignificant areas. Undeniably, the friction of which was faultlessly emitting from the constant grind of their two groins only urged Elena's onward to a great extent as she flicked her pale pink tongue over his revealed nipple.

Her games shaped down the hardened muscles in his arms as persistent groans produced from the part in between her two lips. The slight hint of antiseptic was barely noticeable as her mouth progressed, and began enveloping each ruby line as well as allowing her tongue to lap in the small pools of blood; her teeth browsed their way from his abdomen and upon reaching its prior position north of the latter location, she took the same nipple between her teeth and bit it tentatively – but with an added edge of erotica. The breathless gasp of her name betraying the barrier of Damon's lips, and thus releasing the hold on his self-restraint, caused Elena to smile widely, as well as allow a violent shudder to shiver down her spine as covetous desire overwhelmed her being.

"God… The things you do to me!" she whimpered, feeling the heat radiate to an even higher degree as the lubrication of her sensitive centre involuntarily increased.

She'd simply forgotten the conversation Damon had begun and naturally what she'd replied back to him; her mind was concentrated on one thing and one thing only – Damon Salvatore. (Granted, the pleasure transmitting from both sides was a gracious guarantee.)

Feeling as though if Elena were to plant anymore vehement kisses along Damon's skin, that she may have very well found herself feeling rather faint – she was secretly grateful, but nevertheless shocked as she felt the hasty switch of their positions; somehow within the process of the said rash action Elena's shirt had been torn from her hour-glass figure, but the recollection of it seemed lost to the Gilbert girl as her legs widened considerably, allowing Damon's body to fix neatly in between her two slender legs. The pounding buried within her arousal remained amplified as his hardness thrust considerably faster against her core.

She groaned, her finger nails leaving thick scratches up the length of them, as she attempted to release even a fraction of the pleasure she was undergoing.

"Damo-" her passion-ruled exclaim was brought to an abrupt half as his eager lips silenced her own, laced in the pure lascivious concoction of which had poisoned her veins; her lips motioned in complete sync with his own as their tongue began to battle once more and her digits detoured down the perfect planes of his chest.

Within what appeared to be a rather short time period indeed, her hands had reached their destination, and although her eyes were shut tight, her fingers had no problem in fumbling with his belt buckle.

"I.. I need you now; I need you always," was the breathless gasp rolling from her tantalized tongue as her teeth nudged themselves gently against his bottom lip "Now..."

If Damon were not so engrossed in the sheer passion of the moment he was currently sharing with the ravishing Elena Gilbert, and his mind was not poisoned by thoughts of only her, he would've be able to create a potent storm outside, one that greatly mimicked the one raging inside him. The simplest of gesticulations that Elena executed had a congenial effect on the eldest Salvatore brother. The slightest contact of skin was enough to send bolts of lightning through his veins, and the shortest second of intense eye-contact was so riveting it was unbelievable. Elena was captivating, intoxicating and everything he needed to finally feel something. Something human.

"God …" gasped Damon as the slender female teased him with provisional nips and licks. He flinched vaguely as the exploratory girl trailed her tongue over his slowly healing wounds, catching the raw skin and clearing away any excess blood.

It was a strangely satisfying sensation – Damon couldn't help but lean back and close his eyes, allowing her orifice to dominate his well-structured torso.

But now that he was in control, hovering above the animalistic human with enchanting grace and ascendancy, he was free to tease her as he pleased. All he wanted to hear were her pleasured moans and passionate cries as he inflicted his notions upon her. He roughly broke the kiss that had them mercilessly connected and instead trailed his teeth down her smooth, toned body. He caught a bra-strap between them and, with apparent flair and unusual control, slid it over her shoulder and down her arm. He did the same with the other strap. He then tickled a teasing tongue over the base of her neck to her jaw line, where he planted a trail of ravenous kisses.

Damon's back, arms and shoulders were tingling from Elena's raking nails, but it only intensified his pleasure.

To ensure Elena received her fair share of delight, his drifted his fingers lightly across her torso, sliding his hand around her back to grasp the clasp of her bra. Within a quick, fluid moment, the two clips parted.

"Then have me," he gasped in response to Elena's breathless demands. "Take me."

He then hurried to copy Elena's fumbling fingers at his belt with his own at hers. He undid it and unfastened the button of her jeans, but that was as far as it went.

"ELENA!" yelled Stefan from a floor below. Damon froze for a second, his heart pounding, and his chest rising and falling rapidly, whilst he decided whether or not to clamber off of Elena. To keep himself busy, he gently nipped the skin above her breast, a lot slower and lot more tenderly than before. "Bonnie needs to talk to you! She says it's urgent!"

Damon inwardly groaned at the unwanted interruption, but nevertheless did not stop his playing.

He was sick of being interrupted. He just wanted Elena all to himself.

None of the outside world existed anymore - it simply did not; it had all diminished as the fire of passion had irrupted and then engulfed both Damon and Elena in this intoxicating blend of both love and lust, potently overwhelming the pair of star-crossed lovers. The ravenous roam of his hands as well as his mouth all over her toned torso was such a teasing temptation that Elena couldn't suppress a shudder to ripple through her body as heat coursed through her veins; for what seemed as though the one millionth time Elena wondered firstly, why and earth and secondly, and most likely the most imperative - how she had managed to resist him, as well as the erotic urges he brought fourth within not only her physical being, but her soul, also. Her finger tips traced over the defined lines of his physique as she continued to gasp out sounds, her breathing heavily laboured.

His tongue was at her neck now, and granting him easier access, Elena angled her head to the right - her eye lids almost constantly fluttering open and shut simultaneously. Damon's experience over the past century and a half had most definitely gone to waste as he was clearly emitting techniques upon her body no other male had even attempted... Not even Stefan - especially not Stefan; at that precise second, Elena felt the straps of her bra loosen and the gently graze of his canines across her smooth skin. Determined not to think of Stefan for as long as their sensual session lasted, her hands found their way back northward and anchored upon the dip in his shoulder blades; she held him close and moaned, her breath hitching suddenly at the release of her bra of which had held her previously nestled breasts. As he began to kiss and suckle at the skin there, her eyes rolled and her fingers threaded into his dark locks, keeping him there.

Despite her immense enthusiasm for Damon to complete his mission, thus allowing both Damon and Elena to relish in the single thing of which they both desperately craved - they were interrupted. Interrupted by that of her current boyfriend, Stefan Salvatore. For a blind moment or two, Elena felt a twinge somewhere inside of her, assuming it was her conscious playing tricks on her, hinting that she should halt her embrace with Damon - but when she felt Damon freeze against her body, she knew what she'd heard had in fact been Stefan. And as if Elena needed extra confirmation - he added an explanation for his need of her. Elena closed her brown orbs, preparing herself to nudge away Damon and his pleasures and inhaled sharply; a frown fell across her features and she, using the hands already knotted in his hair, rose his head and whispered a response.

"It seems I'm needed," she mused, her tone an attempt at nonchalance - Elena leant forward and pressed her lips to his own in a sweet kiss "I wish I wasn't though.." And with that and a sassy smirk, she pushed him away from her and sat herself up, her hands fumbling around the satin sheets for her bra.

Why did it feel like the world was ending, slowly crumbling at the sound of Stefan's urgent call? Did it have to end now? Damon would do anything to get her to stay for a few extra minutes if longer weren't possible. The eldest Salvatore brother wasn't usually as melodramatic as such, but when it came to getting what he wanted, he would venture to great lengths. Many people would find themselves exceedingly surprised at what Damon Salvatore was capable of - that was, if they knew him not. However if circumstances were to differ, those who knew him would also find him dangerously unpredictable.

At Elena's sweet kiss to his mouth, Damon felt his insides flutter, but the fluttering died down when she pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him aside. He rolled onto the dark, satin sheets of his bed with a protesting groan. She couldn't leave! Not when he needed her so damn badly.

He hoisted himself up onto his elbows to watch Elena search for discarded clothing – just in time to catch a glimpse of that dangerously dashing smile she flashed at him - with an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He admired her bare torso for a few moments, his eyes raking over her smooth surface of flawless skin and her perfectly toned curves. He felt himself hardening at the mere sight of her picturesque physique, and could no longer take just a visual. He wanted to feel her again.

In the fashion of an experienced predator, Damon pounced across the bed at a rapid speed and grasped Elena's forearms in his strong hands. A playful, guttural growl tore from his throat as he pulled her roughly back onto the luscious satin sheets and pressed his body up against hers, pinning her wrists mercilessly above her head with his hands.

"Don't think I'm letting you go that easily," Damon breathed seductively against her ear, wanting nothing more than to remain this way forever – two bodies fit for one another eternally combined.

Damon kissed a gentle path from beneath Elena's ear lobe to just beneath her jaw line, his fingers stroking her wrists upon which he kept a tight hold. He knew that, soon enough, he'd have to let her go, but maybe there was a way of tempting her to stay for just a bit longer.

"If only we could stay like this forever," whispered Damon longingly. He kissed her slowly and passionately on the lips, his nose playfully bumping with hers. If only, his mind echoed.

Now, of course the nonchalance in Elena's tone was rather plentiful on the surface, but beneath Elena wanted nothing less than to force herself away from Damon and the situation of which had so freely, so naturally evolved between the pair of young forbidden lovers. (And, despite Damon being over a century older than her - the pout of which formed across Damon's lips at her denial of him was very much youthful and indeed unexpected.) However, knowing that if she were to spend another single second glancing in Damon's way that she'd begin to doubt, and further allow herself to be lured back into the immortal's arms - she was assured that if she were to stay steadfast to her stubborn decision, then she had to focus all of her attention on the task at hand. Finding her bra.

It seemed like an odd, but nevertheless relatively simple task; although, anyone of who thought that obviously had either never met, or never encountered Damon in his predatory state. And when Damon wanted something - hell would freeze over before he gave up his mission of covet. As if confirming her inner thought process, not another second was allocated for Elena's brown bambis to search her surroundings, in an attempt to hunt for her discarding garments; he had pounced on her, and in a matter of instants Elena's arms had been raised above her head, now resting delicately upon the pillow above her as Damon's hands held them there, securely. She let escape a mock groan of frustration as she replied.

"Now, Damon; behave," she whispered before biting the skin at her lower lip and groaning, her eyes fluttering wildly upon feeling his wet, ravenous kisses along her jawline and down her neck.

As his chest lowered down to her own once more, she felt their two torsos mould together and the slight brush of his skin against her breasts sent a jolt of electricity through her entire body; she shuddered from the sheer sensual satisfaction of his skin against her own, coupled with the animalistic nature of the stolen kisses he only willingly gave unto her. Despite her exhaling becoming fairly laboured, Elena was gagging for his lips to meet with her own; and the moment they did so, she kissed him back hungrily, passionately before grinning, her tone as seductive as it was playful.

"Shh! They'll hear us!" she murmured against their stirring orifices before hooking her right leg upon his hip, giving her centre a better angle.

Damon breathed a laugh at Elena's attempt at casualness, disconnecting his lips from hers with the slightest regard for reluctance. Each moment his lips were away from any part of her body set off a delusional sentiment inside him – a sense of longing and attachment to the intoxicating human. It was as if somebody had literally threaded them together, connecting them, linking them, but with something invisible, something with extraordinary power. Damon could all but ignore the feeling, and to satisfy the yearning need it presented him with, he placed his lips back against Elena's, slowly and passionately manoeuvring a meaningful kiss. He slackened his tight hold upon Elena's wrists, releasing them to allow her freedom of movement.

He trailed his fingers oh-so-lightly down the soft skin of the insides of her arms, danced them across her shoulder blades and brushed the palms of his hands across her breasts, barely even touching them, all the while maintaining a dominating hold upon her mouth. His endowed grasp travelled down Elena's defined hips and then finishing their journey at the waistband of her jeans – the belt was still un-done, and the button still unclasped, but still sat comfortably atop her hips. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and gave it a desiring tug, but did not shift the garment any further. Instead, he dipped his hands beneath the denim and smoothed them across Elena's lower back.

"Who cares?" murmured Damon, now moving his lips to the base of her creamy neck; he could almost taste the blood that pumped there. "Let them hear us."

Damon smirked viciously against Elena's tempting skin, yet his eyes remained shut as he inhaled her mouth-watering scent. He embraced every combined flavour of her, relishing in the inexplicable mixture. He had a notion – one that would surely hand Elena a heavy dose of anxiety. But he didn't care.

He made the motions of his hands against her back rougher, cocked his head a little to the side, before moaning, "OH GOD … ELENA …" at the top of his voice. He knew that, for that, he would get a beating. Damon couldn't restrain the hearty laugh that erupted from his lips – luckily, not loud enough to be heard by anyone downstairs.

The tantalizing taste of Damon's tongue overwhelmed her mouth, sending each of her senses to a new sort of high of which she'd only ever been able to get glimpses of , and only, of course, with him. The thin digits at the ends of Elena's palms flexed several times at a wasted attempt to release even the tiniest amount of feeling, of which was currently encapsulating her being; her skin was alight with the raw passion of their kiss as hot, white lust coursed through every one of her veins. She bit, sucked, licked and kissed his lips, desperate to hold onto this embezzled moment and achieve the heightened pleasure of which at the hands of Damon Salvatore was undoubtedly second to none. And despite her efforts to forsake her feelings for him, Elena now found herself doing the exact opposite. Indulging.

Engulfed purely in that of Damon Salvatore and the many erotic experiences he continually bestowed upon her body, her mind had become driven half-mad with a potent mix of thirst and no doubt hunger; thirst and hunger for Damon. And although Elena had indeed gained knowledge of being satisfied (both mentally and physically) by the immortal rogue's advances, and no doubt succumbed to his seemingly endless attempts at seduction... She couldn't help but crave him all over again. Intoxicated. That's what Elena was, and doubtlessly, viewed herself as conceivably an always-slave to Damon's charm as well as affection. It was at that very certain and slightly unsettling realisation that Elena felt the release of his previously halting hands and groaned into his mouth - the sudden rush of the once-restricted blood flow performing strange acts upon her nervous system.

But acts she liked, nonetheless. Like a magnet compelled to attract and further follow the every touch of Damon's smooth palms and tickling fingers made to her skin, Elena's body adjusted easily to meet her pleasurer's desires. Which were perceivably an undeniable close concoction to her own. His breathless murmur caused a strange jolt of excitement to commence plentifully at the pit of her stomach, accompanied with the defined feel of his hands rolling over her breasts before fixing at the small of her back. As he broke their locked lips, Elena's hands once more grasped at his raven locks, clutching him closer as a chorus of moans escaped past the barrier of her lips. Regardless of Elena's obvious thriving within this precious, passion-ruled moment, Elena felt herself freeze against his body at the sound of Damon's unusually audible groan of her name.

However, Elena was able to resume her state of relaxation remarkably quickly as, with a blatant smirk across her features, flipped Damon over, so it was he who was lying on his back and Elena leaning downward. With her fingers still entangled within the messy disarray of black knots, she fixed her hips professionally over Damon's hardness before lending her lips to his own; not kissing, lingering.

"You, need to learn to control yourself, Salvatore," she mused before capturing his lips in a wild embrace.

Still relishing in the amount of hilarity he found in his purposeful, groaned outburst, Damon continued to plague Elena's collar with licentious kisses, his smirk still intact as he every so often lingered over the flesh that protected her largest vein for a few seconds longer than elsewhere. He gently grazed his sharp teeth over the most sensitive part of her neck, clamping his eyes shut as her wondrous aroma tackled his enhanced ability to smell. He inhaled it deeply, swimming in the scent that she so modestly possessed.

Damon moaned lightly when Elena weaved her fingers into his dark hair, gripping it with pleasurable force and holding him closer to her neck. He gladly resumed his pursuing trail of kisses and licks to her skin, snaking an arm out from around her back and replacing it within her mass of tangled brown locks. He threaded its softness from his fingers, twisting and coiling strands of it around them.

He seemed not to care of Elena's current frozen state beneath him. Instead of embracing a guilty sentiment, Damon lifted his face from Elena's neck, just for a moment, just to look at her …

But before he could get a good enough examination of the beauty in his arms, she'd altered their positions with extraordinary strength. Strength he had never anticipated to come from dainty Elena; Damon found himself shocked, amused and vastly impressed, all at once. And yet again, he was lying beneath her, with her legs either side of him, imprisoning him in a straddle. A choked gasp swept from his lips as she settled atop his core, which by now was much too eager. A dreadful knot twisted itself within his stomach as she leant forwards to hover teasingly above his lips. He could taste her sweet breath as she murmured seductive words to him with perfect, confident word formations.

Her adjustment in position sent a course of electricity bolting through his abdomen.

"I have none when it comes to you," Damon breathed back, his lips parted yet still shaping a dangerous smile, his eyes on her tempting pout.

Automatically, he began to slowly and scarcely rock his hips up against her, wanting nothing more than to rid them both of the damned denim that segregated them. Then her lips crushed his, sending waves of desire and lust through his desperate form. His hands slithered their way down her body, fixing finally atop her hips. He gripped the defined curves with need, his fingernails dragging down her sides. He seemed unable to take the tension of their lack of centre connectivity much longer. She had him fully distracted, enwrapped in a bubble of dissipated notions. Every movement, every kiss and every touch Elena inflicted upon him just had him mentally begging for more.

A rather satisfied smirk swept its way over Elena's already-wide lips upon the obvious image of the mixture of expressions she had moments ago inflicted upon Damon's facial features; the mix of shock blended with undeniably amazement, with an added touch of amusement was just the reaction the young Gilbert had anticipated and secretly been hoping for. And, although she hadn't the faintest idea why, Elena thrived upon such moments of which she could in a way get the upper hand upon the elder brother; whether it be in a salutary session such as this one or a war of words the two often exchanged, Elena loved the feeling of victory nonetheless. For, the bashful brunette was not so bashful anymore – especially when it concerned Damon and all of the pleasures she could and would only willing give unto him. Their hands still entangled within one another's hair, Elena continued her attack of kisses at his mouth.

Damon's gasp also didn't go amiss as Elena's ears detected the muffled moan loud and clear; the position of her straddle continued to remain virtually the same as she once again allowed her centre to mould itself against Damon's own - thus granting herself an even better feel of his guaranteed inevitable arousal. But it was at Damon's breathless response that Elena began to doubt her ability to halt her almost over-powering urges to ravish the elder brother beneath her; as if his experienced games were not enough of an influence towards her ravenous cravings, the hesitant, then further more intense gyrate of his hips against her own soon began to take their toll upon Elena. As if proving this inner observation, her moist centre began grinding up and against Damon's, whilst her eyes rolled a degree or two.

"Uh... Oh!" Were the only audible words escaping from Elena's channel of moans as the pair of passionate illegal lovers prolonged their erotic embrace of one another.

All thoughts of escape from this lascivious aroma encapsulating the two of them, the mortal's thigh adjusted slightly, giving her core an even better angle for escalated pleasure gain. However, as she did so - despite the obvious added friction between their two sensitive centres, (causing her to yelp out loud) her jean-sheathed leg came across what felt like a bundle of fabric. Then, suddenly, a rush of realization flooded her system as she understood what it was. Her bra. Elena's rational mind rejoiced as she noted Damon's level of distraction and cautiously unthreaded her fingers from his hair, hoping he wouldn't regard the action as unusual. Constantly kissing the immortal, Elena hastily grasped the material and hooked it around her waist before replying.

"Well..." She whispered lowly before pushing her arms through the straps and planting her palms upon his chest "I guess I'll have to have enough control for us both," and with that, (and reluctance,) broke their kiss and climbed off of his body, then the bed.

Not without flashing the no doubt sexually-frustrated vampire a quick smile, Elena's brown orbs began scanning around the room in search of her shirt.

"Now.. Where did I put that shirt..?"

**Steph+Jackie x3 **


	11. Take Off Your Colours

**A/N: Well, I have to say, after THAT finale my DE hope is more than alive! How awesome was Ian Somerhalder though, SERIOUSLY? (Fan-girl moment over :P) And regarding your reviews upon last chapter… I like where your ideas are going; you all seem really involved with this story and for that and your reviews we thank you so so much! As always, we urge you to review after this chapter – they mean the world. :) And random query: how do you guys think DE should develop after the finale? And what about STEFAN? D: Am I the only one who thinks he's hot when he's a ravenous beast? ;o – Onto the chapter. :B**

**Chapter 11: Take Off Your Colours.**

Damon felt as if he were lost within the depths of somebody else's imagination. He didn't feel as if he were … himself. With Elena – he was a completely different being. The hole in his heart felt non-existent when so captivated in Elena's affections, when with her just so ordinarily this way; stranded and locked helplessly inside a mesmerizingly dark world he seemed unable to escape. It was a bittersweet sensation – almost sour, but sweet at the same time. That's what it felt like, this intoxication – wrong and right; in unison.

Damon cared not for the rules that supplemented their relationship; intimacy levels, such as the occurring, were forbidden. They were expected to unite in friendship only, despite deeper feelings for one another. Because, well, Elena was Stefan's. What would ever change that? But Damon was a general rule-breaker. All he wanted was to just hold her and let her hold him. With her, he was a mended man, an unbroken soul numbed to his reality and all crime he had committed in the past – and sometimes felt obliged to continue to do so. Whilst with her, in whatever way that appeared apparent, he felt the slightest bit human. He was Damon Salvatore; university rebel, charming young soldier with a full, beating heart. Not Damon Salvatore; sadistic, murdering, moth-eaten vampire, incapable of love.

But that was the thing. He was so terribly misunderstood that people anticipated him to possess a stone-cold heart that did not possess the ability to express the said sentiment. But he wasn't incapable, despite all he had done and the lengths he had breached to barricade the emotion inside, along with other poisoned secrets. Despite all that, he most certainly was able to love.

Because he loved Elena. As indistinct as it may seem at the current moment in time, amidst his wild, instinctive and arrogant character, he truly loved her. But was it visible to Elena? And what did she feel?

The withdrawal of Elena's lips gave Damon a mental kick back into reality, and all meandering thoughts were discarded with just the smallest but most fluent of motions. Elena had dismounted him, clad in her remarkably sophisticated lingerie that he removed with impeccable flair just moments before. When did she put that on? Damon felt like he had just been compelled. But, of course, he hadn't. That was just plain ridiculous.

He watched as Elena searched for her lost shirt, and did not get up to aid her in her investigation of the room. He just observed, frowning, his tongue clicking against his teeth.

"Well that's not fair," he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear, "I was totally distracted."

He was disappointed in the halt in action, not at all happy that something so amazing had been cut so short. But then again, Stefan needed her. As did Bonnie. Was he even of importance at the moment?

"I'm not just some lap dog or temporary sex toy for you to play with when you're bored," he snapped harshly, swinging his legs off of the bed, moving to perch himself casually on the end. It was only then that he remembered the gashes and various other wounds to his torso, but they didn't hurt much anymore. Only a slight jolt of pain or a tiny sting could be felt – he was healing, but not nearly as quickly as he could've been. He ignored the slight twinge in his stomach and instead sat facing Elena defiantly, arms crossed against his chest and an eyebrow rose expectantly.

Elena's thin arms bent as they fixed themselves easily onto her hour-glass hips; she allowed a sigh of air to pass through her pouted lips as the Gilbert girl continued to scrutinize the confines of Damon's room. Her shirt couldn't have gotten THAT far, could it? And almost simultaneous to that very thought her eyes ran over a crumple of red fabric. Her shirt, finally! Consequently, Elena allowed her arms to fall loosely at her sides and motioned towards the desired object; in one fluid motion Elena bent her fragile frame and scooped up the shirt, feeling the crimson attire against her tips before tugging the said shirt over her head. However, it was as the material slid over her features that Elena's confident smile vanished almost instantly at Damon's harsh accusation.

The usually-meek mortal would've been lying had she claimed that didn't hurt her; the pang of guilt mixed with heightened discomfort was not one of which Elena was used to feeling; but, when she did experience the said inner torment Elena found it next to unbearable. (Especially when it involved Damon Salvatore; the immortal with the profound influence that no doubt was far more intense than Elena had witnessed between herself and anyone else; not even Stefan...) Casting these intruding thoughts far away from her conscious muses, Elena inhaled a sharp breath, only her back remaining visible to him as she composed herself enough to plaster a make-believe, but nonetheless, smile upon her dusty-rose lips' surface. Suddenly, her head cocked to the side as she examined Damon's now-adjusted figure as well as measured the level of agitation within the vampire's being.

"Well, correct me if I'm mistaken, but isn't that what you seem to be?" she countered cleverly before twitching the right side of her lip a degree further.

Deciding upon her next lease of action, Elena's fingers fiddled momentarily with the zipper at her jeans; she thrust the zip up easily before fixing the above button. Elena's eyes locked onto Damon's ocean orbs and the brunette began to slowly saunter towards the elder Salvatore - her red shirt billowing every now and then, revealing the black-lace bra underneath the flowing fabric. And although ever rational sense in Elena's mind was screaming at her to simply let the situation be, her body all but ignored the attempts of sanity to control her muscles. She was in front of him now; Elena's brown bambi's drifted over his defined features as she raised a nimble finger, her thumb and fore finger capturing his face as she elevated his eye line.

An expression of unpredicted compassion overwhelmed her being as she did so.

"Why so pouty?" she whispered, her eyes holding, boring into his own for a single, prolonged moment before releasing her gentle grasp upon his face and returning it to her shirt.

Her dainty digits slipped agilely in and out of the gaps in between the scarlet fabric as she hastily continued the task she'd begun moments before; besides, if she were to meet Stefan and Bonnie in the state of which she was currently residing in, there would no longer be a need for Damon and Elena's sensual session to remain a secret. Successfully buttoning up every single one of her buttons (or, that's what she assumed) Elena swiftly turned from the vampire and began walking towards the door. Elena would in some way, somehow, make this up to Damon.. Whether it be a passionate place of her lips upon his own or another variation of her feelings for him - she would do it.

Elena, deep within the dark depths of her soul truly loved Damon; despite how her actions were currently being perceived toward him.

Damon found himself quite disconcerted by Elena's response to his accusatory manner. He did not admit to his alarm, however – he maintained his convincing poker face, unmoving from his position at the end of the marvellous four-poster bed. He wanted to retort bitingly, he wanted to say something witty and hurtful but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Every movement and every word that Elena performed had him intrigued – his senses swam with a note of familiarity, causing Damon to frown. She was reminding him of a woman he once knew, which had to be delusional because they were two completely opposite women, no matter how alike in appearance. But he couldn't deny what was right in front of him. It was like he was looking at Katherine. The way she sauntered towards him so gracefully, so confidently, posture held with a sort of aristocratic trait. The way she wore such bold, boisterous colours and the way that mesmerising smirk feebly tackled her lips.

It was mysterious, but seductive, both at the same time.

Worryingly, it was Katherine all over.

No! screamed his mind, distinctly horrified at Damon's comparisons. No, it's Elena. This is ELENA.

Damon took a deep, steadying breath, but kept his eyes on the beautiful, warm gaze of the young Gilbert doppelganger. She and Katherine were so different but so alike in numerous noticeable ways, as well as those that were less distinct. It was difficult to comprehend without feeling at least the tiniest bit bemused.

"Why so dominating?" Damon murmured in response to Elena's bittersweet whisper.

A smirk, generated through intense curiosity and suspicion, crept its way across his mouth. He made a voluntary movement towards the fingers that grasped his defined jaw-line, but before he could grab Elena's hand, and affectionately intertwine his fingers with hers, she had let go and had moved away from him, striding towards the door.

She was leaving after all, abandoning him in this state of frustration, confusion and amidst a crazed blast from the past. He simply watched her go, lips parted in mild dumbfound wonderment, anticipating her to turn around and say something to him – but she didn't. She was leaving. Stefan needed her, Bonnie needed her. And like she had agreed, he was nothing more than a pleasure-granting toy for her selected amusement.

"Elena, wait!" cried Damon, holding up a hand instinctively. "You missed a button …"

He smiled viciously at her, but behind that flicker of a smile were so many different emotions and sentiments, all positive and negative combined. He was confused, licentious, hurt and so tremulously in love that he didn't know what particular feeling to focus on. It was at times like these when he knew not of himself and was unsure of anything that adjoined with love. He just didn't know what to think, other than he loved her.

But the last thing he wanted was another Katherine. Not again, not ever. But she wasn't Katherine. She was Elena. They were completely and utterly different in so many ways. Right?

This was for Damon; what she was saying, her foul, forsaking words coupled with her doubtlessly condemning actions; the hurt of which she was inflicting upon Damon, that in turn rebounded upon herself was severe. But it was the correct thing to do, for everyone - was it not? Despite denying herself from the thing, the one person that she craved the most now, and for the un-see able future ever would - sacrifice was something the brunette was used to; of course, if Damon knew the quarrels and disagreements of her inner mind he would strongly oppose and barricade his arms around her - blocking and guarding the young Gilbert away from the world and any attempts outsiders made to tear their love down... And so for that reason and for that reason only - Elena allowed herself to manipulate, lie to and deceive Damon. Because, ultimately she was doing right by him; if there was someone who deserved more than any other soul not to have history repeat itself then it was Damon.

He was deeply damaged, even a fool would've been able to detect that; and of course, some would argue that Elena was merely adding to the endless torment of his shattered soul - Elena couldn't even allow those thoughts to process. For, any pain of which was endured by the elder brother, Elena felt also. Upon that intriguing, but doubtlessly disturbing thought, a desperate cry broke through the accumulated silence and Elena froze momentarily before turning and wandering almost expectantly back to Damon. She arrived in front of the impeccably-handsome immortal once more and found herself scrutinizing his figure with cautious eyes, but a contrasting slightly amused expression nonetheless.

"Missed a button, did I?" Elena mused the repeat of Damon's tactful words and stole a glance towards her torso; he was correct, there was a single button undone.

A playful smile twitched at Elena's mouth, matching Damon's own as she arched her back, leaning herself dangerously close to Damon's still-naked chest before allowing her words to flow from her lips once again in a soft, seductive whisper.

"It seems you're right, Salvatore," she paused for a moment, capturing his gaze in a firm, almost-unbreakable hold and then adding "Perhaps you could offer your assistance in sealing the simple predicament..?"

And although Elena was in love with Damon, (she'd accepted this realization, fairly graciously long ago) she had to keep up this pretence of only caring for the sexual pleasure he could give unto her; and despite the fact she did enjoy Damon in every way humanly possible - she also longed for him to hold her... To just hold her. Banning those foolish inner murmurs, Elena concentrated on the task at hand and awaited Damon's response.

Everything that Elena did in the next few moments had Damon unwillingly entranced. She walked with as much grace and curiosity as a lioness, yet had the face and body of an angel. It was a fiercely beautiful combination – one that Damon found was at the top of his list. He mentally ticked the box that adjoined this factor and watched elegant Elena as she approached with ostensible caution.

"We don't want any, ah, questions, now do we?" Damon murmured, wearing his usual devious smirk.

He reached out to do-up Elena's button, as requested, but his fingers did not loom near the centre joining of her red shirt. Inside, his palms settled neatly upon her hips' defined curves and slid around to loiter at the small of her back. He leant in, sharp canines protruding, and with impeccable flair and eccentric capability, he did up the remaining button with his teeth.

He was careful to take his time with the procedure, making sure to grip a little firmer at the flesh beneath his hands and drawing her already arched body closer to him. When the loosened button was finally connected with fabric, he created the smallest of gaps between them and glanced up at her, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Mission accomplished," he simpered – and closed the gap again.

Slowly, seductively and alluringly, Damon plagued a path of profuse kisses along her red-clad chest, hating the textile-barrier that segregated his eager lips from soft skin; he wanted nothing more than to tear it straight off (again) but resisted the noxious temptation. Instead, he quickened his pace, kissing her body more rapidly. He ran his hands up and down her back with nails scraping at bold-crimson fabric.

This was the second time Elena had made to leave with Damon stopping her.

He possessed great pride in the notion of his hold over her, but could not rid himself of toxic thoughts of other circumstances; no matter how many times he constantly told himself that he wasn't kissing Katherine, he couldn't rid his mind of the many similarities between the vindictive vampire and the innocent human. Especially at this particular time.

Her brown orbs began to glow with a new kind of enthusiasm as she watched Damon expertly complete the task at hand. Saliva began to accumulate within the human's mouth whilst Damon grasped a notch harder than before; moments after Damon had accomplished the said 'mission', his blue ocean's locked onto her bewildered features, but only briefly as without a single second of hesitation, dived his head and began massaging his mouth over Elena's chest. Elena gasped out loud in sheer pleasure as the immortal continued his plague of kisses across her sensitive breasts - if only there were no fabric covering her... Her hands clutched at his hair, grabbing handfuls whilst her leg hooked itself onto Damon's hip hastily.

"God..." she breathed, her heart-rate once again speeding up vastly as her heart began to gallop in its imprisoning cage.

Miraculously, Elena was, although laboured after the mere seconds of Damon's taunting kisses, able to string together an audible sentence.

"Are you ready for your second mission? Only, this one you've already had practise with..." her tease was obvious as her words flirted with the implication of the sinister, sexual act Elena was luring the vampire towards.

Her digits clenched his messy knots and thrust his head up roughly before taking his lips into a full, hard kiss; without her mind's consent, Elena's previously supporting leg had collapsed and was now coiled around Damon's body. Their lips motioned together impeccably, ravishing one another's mouths as the smitten Gilbert rested herself, once against upon his defined hardness. And though her conscious highly disapproved, Elena was unable to possess the necessary control to perform to halt an inevitable grind across it, accompanied with a moan of pleasure only Damon could unleash from her pouted lips.

Damon knew that he had hit a hidden sentiment in Elena when a pleasure-driven cry emitted from her lips. He encompassed a plentiful amount of conceit in hearing her gasps and groans because he knew that it was he who decoyed them out. Damon didn't verbally respond to these exclamations, however. He continued to revel in the scent of Elena's skin, choosing to respond through physical actions rather than words. Damon could both hear and feel the thrashing of Elena's heart; it was beating so incredibly fast that Damon presumed it was only a matter of time before it would break free of its robust, bone cage.

Elena's fingers interweaving through his dark hair only seemed to egg him on. The pure rationality of her grip pushed adrenalin through his veins at a frequency Damon thought unfeasible. He trailed competent lips fervently across her pert chest rashly, not wanting to miss even the smallest area of skin.

He could no longer deal with the amount of blood-red material that obstructed his lips from contact, so he hooked a finger hastily into the neck-line of the appealingly-coloured garment and swiftly shifted it aside. The conclusion of this careless, fluid motion was that of a button popping apart from the adjoining lining. At long last, Damon was granted skin access and, without hesitation, he worked his mouth across it. That was until his pursuing trail of licentious kisses was diminished by a tough tug on his hair. This avid gesture was quickly redeemed, however, as Elena's lips met his in a wildly passionate kiss. Damon's mind digressed almost instantly as their lips crushed one another's, journeying down thought-paths he had done well to avoid. Elena had conflicted his mind, heart and soul in more ways that Damon had anticipated to be possible. But he allowed her to continue with it – his mind, heart and soul were all in her possession now.

They belonged to Elena Gilbert; nobody else. Only her.

And so, as stated, the second mission commenced with Elena settled on Damon's lap with her legs coiled around him, grinding against his tender hardness. His breath hitched painfully in his throat as little Elena gyrated her hips, but despite the discomfort, he found himself moving with her in synchronization. The moment was drenched with lust and passion and inevitable gasps and groans and pleasured cries. Multiple times, Elena's name surpassed his breathlessness and escaped Damon's parted lips. He grasped the back of her slender neck firmly, diving deeper into the intense kiss.

And although the entire purpose of Elena tactfully finding and slipping on her under garment had been that of escaping the animalistic immortal's grip... Elena now found herself grasping him closer, almost for dear life as her body became over run by silent pleas of him to take her - to take her in every single way possible. And then, in turn, allow her to inflict the same amount of intense pleasure upon his god-like physique. It was true that no other man, or supernatural creature had ever, and Elena was almost certain would ever, be able to gain this vast amount of allure and fascination Damon presented only too willingly towards the human. the instant Elena felt Damon's arousal gyrate up against her own, her breath hitched, her thrusts remaining constant; if only there hadn't been the two sets of their jean's fabrics separating the pair of star-crossed lovers. If only...

Her humming-bird heart persisted in pounding profusely, so heavily the irrational part of Elena's mind feared it would beat directly out of her chest - however, Elena's health was not a worrying factor for the young Gilbert as currently - her mixed was solely concentrated upon that of Damon Salvatore and the many aspects of pleasure they each practised, almost simultaneously upon one another. The groans of forbidden desire of which Damon's mouth granted escape to send an even vaster amount of lascivious lust through her entire body; her veins were flooded by the potent concoction of the combined mixture. Her hot centre's moisture soon became slightly damper as their passionate embrace upped yet another not on the sensual scale, the numerous sensations jolting through her fragile frame causing Elena to yelp out his name frequently.

"D-Damon... Uh, oh!" Elena rasped from her labour-lathered tone as her fingers slipped from their tight hold of his locks and splayed themselves across the curve in Damon's neck - her nails once again making themselves known upon his skin in a no doubt ravenous manner.

The heat and passion that coursed through Damon upon every one of Elena's potently affectionate inflictions was inexorable. Desire like no other seemed to be all that he felt as he held her close with strong arms; as close as two lovers could get. Damon's fingers left the rear of Elena's neck. They slid down her back until his fingers journeyed beneath the waistline of her jeans. His lips were still captured in an amazing kiss – one so wondrous that he doubted he would ever experience anything alike it. Their lips melted together in beautiful contrast, as they inhaled each other's sweet breath and tasted the constant desire on one another's tongues. The adoring and licentious sentiments Damon felt for Elena was irrevocable. Nothing would ever alter how he felt - he was prepared to swear on it.

Elena's pleasure-driven gasps and moans were enough to up his pulse. Similar sounds did not cease to evade his stubborn shields either.

He could not deny the sensuality he was feeling and could not hold in his evidence of it.

"Uh … Elena," he whispered softly against her parted lips, a ragged gasp emanating from him at every devious jolt of their hips.

He silently cursed the obstructive clothing they both wore. He found that his hands were tugging at Elena's waistline, as if in desperation to rid her of the interrupting garment. But whenever he made to tug the denim down further, he was distracted by the work of Elena's tongue – it did magnificent things to him, both voluntary and involuntary responses. He kissed her hard and passionately, the tension ever-growing inside him- and tip them both backwards, back onto the comfort of the richly-made bed, but a voice – loud and clear – pierced the exquisiteness of the moment.

"ELENA!" yelled Stefan from a floor below, "He can take care of himself!"

Inwardly, Damon groaned and pulled out of the mesmerising kiss. He leant his head on Elena's shoulder and heaved a sigh.

"I'm gonna kill him," he mumbled. "No kidding. I actually will kill him …"

It seemed as if Damon also shared her inner thoughts as his hands soon mirrored her actions, (although, Damon neglected to scratch her) but time was regrettably no longer on their sides as the definite call of her boyfriend boomed from downstairs. Elena groaned out of agitation before shifting her eyes to meet with Damon's own; her thumb found his lower lip as she smiled, commenting upon his threat.

"Mhmm, I'm sure if you did there would be no-one to interrupt us," she mused, kissing him once before grinning "Although, he's right; you can take care of yourself," she teased before, an odd, a very un-Elena like sentence erupted from her lips "Fun's over," and with that whispered statement, she unwillingly unravelled herself from Damon and headed to the door.

It was absolutely typical of Stefan to ruin things for him, whether he knew they were going on or not. It didn't matter; he was still ruining his enjoyment.

Damon said nothing as Elena dismounted his lap.

Again, she was leaving him in quite a discomforting state, and growled merely out of agitation.

"I may be able to take care of myself to an extent," mumbled Damon, as Elena rushed towards the bedroom door, "But this … This particular circumstance requires the aid of a female."

But she was gone, with those last two words. Fun's over. He frowned as these words replayed in his head – they brought back a memory; one he wanted to avoid… at all costs.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	12. Fool Me Once

**A/N: Season three shall be 'The Season of Delena' ^^. And because we're both SOO nice (and can't wait either) we'll update hopefully right up until Season three begins; just so you guys aren't too Delena starved. ;) (And if you guys keep reviewing then we shall update quicker :P). And of course, your reviews are gratefully received and also any ideas/theories are often welcome. This chapter was a great one to write, and I'm sure Steph will agree with me. (: But for now, adios and remember to review; happy reading! **

**Chapter 12: Fool Me Once.**

_Mystic Falls, 1864._

Katherine was above him, straddling him, a vicious smile gracing her perfect lips. Damon looked up at her in fascination, quite unable to believe that somebody so beautiful belonged to him. Not Stefan; him. She wore a delicious corset in ravishing black and her long hair fell in elegant curls over her shoulders. She possessed an expression of domination, leadership and ownership. Damon liked it. She plunged forth for a kiss; a deep, intense kiss. Her hair tickled his bare chest and swept over the simple white pillow his head was resting on. He answered her kiss enthusiastically, reaching out to smooth the soft skin on her cheek with his index finger. She was ice-cold, but a woman with the ability to send real shivers down his spine was not at all worth a complaint. He embraced the perilous beauty with strong arms, never ever wanting to let her go.

"Miss Katherine! You have a visitor!"

Emily, her maiden, was calling from downstairs. Katherine lifted her head, attention apparently caught, before pouting at Damon.

"I do apologise," she whispered seductively, "But the fun's over. I believe your brother is here."

And with that she clambered off of him and left the room.

_Mystic Falls, Present day. _

Damon stared at the opposite wall. Then fell back onto the covers of the bed, hands covering his face. No way, he thought. No – way.

A Secret. That's what Elena had created that long, passion-filled night in the tomb. And, although secrets, when revealed doubtlessly caused severe hurt and upset toward the person of whom had been left in the dark... Secrets were also delicious, alluring and thrilling. Strange how all three seemed to link directly back to the Salvatore the Gilbert girl had left reeling upon the edge of his four-poster bed. Despite her heart's intense ache of being apart from the immortal rogue; Elena, for now at least forced herself to think rationally. For, if she were to remain in that very compromising, and undeniably sensual situation with the vampire then all hell would've broke loose. She was sure. And that reason and that reason alone empowered Elena to continue taking her leave. And regrettably, Elena did eventually reach the bedroom door, but averted her attention toward the said Salvatore brother as he spoke.

An experienced pout captured her lips and curved them easily at its will as the brunette responded.

"That is a shame... However will you go on?" she mused in a playful mock before swirling elegantly and departed over the threshold of Damon's room.

Her digits unclasped from the handle as she soon began to simultaneously attempt to flatten the no doubt brown disarray of her long locks; making out with Damon Salvatore was pleasurable, that much was obvious. But as for the evidence it left behind..? Not so enjoyable. Elena's brown orbs scanned the scene serenely as she scrutinized every single aspect of the hallway and then naturally over to the first level of stairs; no sign of Stefan or Bonnie - perfect. Feeling very much like a fugitive in her own boyfriend's home, Elena hastily began her retreat over to the stairs and cautiously, but hurriedly nonetheless.

And Elena had very nearly escaped the attention of her best friend, but as Elena feared - the voice of Bonnie soon erupted into the air around her. The suddenly meek mortal halted mid-step and mentally cursed herself for being so incredibly unprepared for this inevitable moment. After a second or two delay, Elena turned, regarding the witch with a polite expression as she spoke.

"Bonnie! I was just coming down to see you why-" Elena's nervous ramble was cut abruptly short as Bonnie interrupted.

"Yes, I know..." Bonnie returned before shifting her eyes from Elena's face and then south of her body; Elena twitched, and reacting self-consciously, barricaded her arms around her thin frame; noticing this and flashing her best friend an odd glance, Bonnie continued "But It's a tad private for lingering ears. Speaking of, is he..."

"No," Elena replied sharply, and Bonnie flinched, answering Elena's indicative rebuke.

Apprehensively, Elena shot her gaze around their environment until finally resting upon a closed door; she pointed immediately over to it and beckoned Bonnie over as she motioned closer to it.

"We should be able to talk in there," she added, before slipping into the room beside Damon's and awaiting Bonnie's arrival; fearing her best friend had already registered Elena's extreme anxiety, Elena's eyes shifted everywhere with exception to the said friend.

Much too soon for Elena's liking - Bonnie entered the spare room and instantly fired a statement her way.

"We need to talk; about you and Damon. Now."

For so long, Damon had theorised with the idea that Elena was not Katherine in any applicable way, and up until now had been correct. There had been so many conspicuous dissimilarities; Elena's eyes were somewhat brighter – they shone with mischief, determination and observance. Katherine's had been mesmerising also, but held less light and instead glittered with lust, ownership and dominance. Both doppelgangers possessed a certain fire about their personalities, but they were different types of fire of different heat and consistency. It was … complicating to entirely explain it, but it was noticeable, most definitely.

But now Damon had been forced to oppose his original deliberations, what with the attitude Elena had acquired whilst both human and vampire had been amidst sensual activity. She had seemed to adopt many traits that belonged to Katherine, such as constant domination, an incredible ability to seduce him, a white-hot fire that resumed to burn and that curious pout that had Damon's insides deteriorating. She had been so playful and so direct and just … not Elena. The Elena he knew (despite not knowing her as well as Stefan, regrettably) was subtle, charming, modest and beautiful and although the characteristics she had implemented were not at all negative, they just weren't Elena.

And so, it had got him thinking. Did he want to get in such a state again? Did he really want another Katherine? Could he afford yet another ravaged heart? Were Elena's Katherine-like performances even genuine?

So many questions flew in and out of his consciousness, complicating his thoughts further when one adjoined to the other. Damon scrunched up his face as his head began to throb; with a heavy sigh, he obliterated the demanding questions and simply lay there, undisturbed by reality. It means his shields were up.

Damon's robust protection against all human emotions seemed to stand up and take guard at the most inappropriate of times. Whenever he got too embraced by humanity's cruel intentions and too sucked into all that was beautiful about nature and all that was adorable about puppies, these steel blockades shot up, and once again he assumed his cold-hearted demeanour. But when love was introduced to him, accompanied by a very off-putting but somewhat alluring price-tag, the shields seemed to double up in strength, posture and cogency.

Damon closed his eyes, welcoming the newly reinstated steel barriers.

"- you and Damon; now!" Bonnie's voice was shrill and demanding and so resilient in tone that Damon couldn't help but continue to listen in.

It was not only her pungent voice that interested him, but also of the subject she chose to address in such a manner. Him and Elena. He was intrigued. What could Bonnie and Elena possibly be talking about?

Damon's eyes fluttered open. He hoisted himself away from the comfort of his richly-covered four-poster bed and made his way out of the simple yet handsome room, deliberately forgetting to slip on a shirt. He closed the bedroom door behind him, of course ensuring privacy, before setting off at a steady stroll down the corridor, his ears detecting the distinct sound of hushed, female voices.

And for what seemed like the most painful, and most prolonged of seconds - Elena stared wide-eyed toward her best friend, her mouth gaping open into a very noticeable 'o' shape; she blinked several times until, she managed to gain control over herself. But how did Bonnie know, how could she have? Their sordid affair had been discovered, therefore her sensual secret with the elder Salvatore had now been revealed; or, at least was very nearly about to be unleashed any way... She swallowed back a large breath of air and bonnie spoke once again.

"Well? Oh come on, Elena - I'm your best friend, you can tell me anything," Bonnie assured her with a compassionate smile; and, despite herself - Elena smiled also. (Although, it most definitely wasn't for the same reason Bonnie was - more a twitch at the lips of relief.) "I'm sure, whatever you had to endure in that tomb with him that you were trapped for goodness knows how long isn't too bad!"

'Oh, if you only knew!' Elena's mind chimed as she held her best friend's gaze; if she only knew how totally wrong she was. No. Elena mentally rebuked herself - she couldn't allow those kinds of thoughts of Damon to creep into her mind; not after she'd escaped from yet another lust-driven session with the seductive immortal. Deciding to hold steadfast to her recent neglect of her body's (as well her mind's) desires, Elena answered the waiting witch in a tone just short of mockery. The Gilbert girl hoped Bonnie would be swayed by her words rather than how utterly make-believe they must have sounded. Because in brutal honesty, that was all she had. Hope. She snorted and raised her arm, as if casting away all mentions of Damon as she did so.

"No, it's not that - you and Stefan found me before anything..." Elena tasted the words on her tongue, but fell short of how to connect her still-drifting sentence as thankfully footsteps echoed from the floorboards from the outer confines of the room.

He found their location in a matter of seconds (two doors down from his own room) and pushed open the door to witness two very irritable teenagers.

But, as the moment progressed and Elena's eyes averted toward the door, her new-found ease soon adopted an opposite emotion and despite her best efforts, a small gasp broke free from the barrier in between her two pouted lips. Damon, of all people - and to make matters worse, a shirtless Damon. Her top teeth gnawed on the soft skin at her bottom lip as her eyes scanned over his god-like physique, momentarily lost as she continued to ogle the immortal's impeccable beauty; his winning smile as evident, as cocky and doubtlessly as beautiful as ever. However, something inside of the brunette jolted her back to reality as her eyes instantly narrowed.

"Do I detect frustration?" Damon simpered, an impish grin evident upon his handsome features. He looked from Bonnie to Elena – where his eyes glittered with licentious sparkle – and back again, to find Bonnie eying him suspiciously.

"Damon? Damon, what are you doing in here?" she said, exasperated, her eyes ripping from their location at his wonderfully toned chest and raising, meeting his ocean orbs, "Were you spying on us?" her second sentence was more of an accusation than a question as a flash of anger bolted through her usually-warm bambis as liquid lucid replaced her common doe-eyed stare.

Damon couldn't be here now; not like this!

"What?" he demanded, cocking an eyebrow at the investigating witch. He followed her gaze, and found that she had been eying the red scratches that marked his shoulder-blades.

She appeared quite confused at the odd flaw to his skin (with the exception of nearly-healed gashes to his abdomen and his stomach). She then averted her gaze to Elena, apparently searching her for something similar … Before she gasped – well, more shrieked – in horror.

"OMIGOSH!" she gasped at a speed so incredible Damon found it hard to translate what she had just exclaimed, "ELENA! No! NO – WAY!"

Bemused, irritated and not really sure of what to say, Damon glanced towards Elena's chest, suddenly spotting what she had appeared to notice, too.

Elena hadn't done up the button Damon had unclasped to get to her skin, thus totally giving her away. And the scratches … Well, that was a glowing neon sign that shone 'GUILTY.'

Damon held back a laugh. Now this would be amusing.

"Oh!" gasped Damon in mock surprise, looking back down at the scratches on his torso, "Ah. Yes. She's feisty, isn't she?" He smirked deviously. Bonnie looked simply mortified.

Acting upon pure impulse and pure impulse alone, she crossed the short distance between him and anchored her palms upon his shoulders; but just as she began to thrust the vampire away from her and lead him toward his ultimate departure, Elena froze at Bonnie's sudden, shrill vocalization. Remembering how to move her muscles, Elena's fingers pried from Damon's bare skin and she spun to face Bonnie - madly shaking her head as brown strands danced all around her head.

Damon looked from Bonnie to Elena, quite enjoying himself. He knew that he was testing Elena's patience as well as totally grossing out Bonnie, but he cared not, for the expressions the two girls responded with were thrilling. Damon held back a laugh, but his snort was inevitable as Elena advanced towards him, arms outstretched. She slammed into him – apparently trying to shift his heavy build – but he didn't move. He stood there, as still as a statue, peering down into the determined face of the young Gilbert. He smiled deviously at her.

"I'm stronger than you, Elena," he sighed, as if tired of stating the obvious, "But I thought you already knew that." He risked a wink and then side-stepped her. But it appeared Bonnie's yell had already caught her attention.

Elena's petty tries at denial were obviously failing her. Bonnie didn't look convinced in the slightest. Her stare was cold as she glared at her best friend.

"No... No, Bonnie! It's not - It's not what you think, okay? It's not! Could I, would I do that?" Elena desperately defended, or rather, attempted to, but catching Bonnie's gaze and following where it lead - her eyes drooped and captured what part of Elena's body had gained the witch's attention; her shirt.

The button... The button of which Damon's teeth had easily unthreaded; in one erratic reaction, Elena's fingers seized the crimson material, before taking the stolen opportunity to breath and barricading her arms over her chest. But seemingly in spite of her best efforts, (and coupled of course with a prideful gloat of Damon Salvatore) Elena came to the realisation she had well and truly been caught. She viciously swiped at Damon's arm, rebuking the vampire for his prior comment and glaring daringly at him before swapping her focus to Bonnie.

"Well, i mean; I suppose it is... We did kiss," Elena paused, searching for a mellowed version "A couple of times..."

Damon was also peering at Elena with interest, the same licentious twinkle in his eyes from previously. His gaze didn't shift.

"I don't know, Elena," muttered Bonnie, looking expectant whilst crossing her arms definitely across her chest. "Would you?"

Whilst that question continued to suspend within the air, creating a tighter bubble of tension, Damon sauntered his way across the room to lean casually against a wall. He was careful to deliberately graze Elena's arm as he passed her. However he did not sneak a glance over his shoulder, as much as he would've liked to.

"Let's see," Damon began, clearing his throat. "I saved Elena's life, but we somehow managed to get ourselves stuck inside the tomb. I distinctly remember feeling just a little bit hungry whilst imprisoned in that damned place, so Elena kindly offered me some of her blood." Damon was careful to leave out the re-tell of his great struggle and sudden weakened moment.

He hadn't wanted to take her blood from her, but now … he didn't regret it. It had lead onto great things. "Things got a little intense … After all, the consummation of blood is a pleasurable feeling for both human and vampire. We kissed, sure, it was hard to resist-"

Damon paused and shrugged, as if for dramatic effect.

Catching the skin at the contents of the inside of Elena's mouth between her teeth; silently hoping, praying that somewhere deep, deep inside that fantastic, but reckless mind of his that Damon would refrain from sharing anymore of the intimate moments of their affair; furthermore, that Bonnie would forgive Elena for the crime of passion she'd willingly committed.

And building upon the segment of hope Elena held, her eyes began searching the witch's face, hearing her mutter of disbelief.

"Bonnie, look; you don't understand... You-" but the Gilbert girl's words of protest were cut abruptly short by none other than the cunning charmer himself.

"Oh. And we had sex."

He grinned at Bonnie, whom looked absolutely disgusted.

"OK, OK!" yelled Bonnie, holding up her hands in defeat, "You can stop now, Damon, I think I get the point-"

"And that's not all!" He was continuing as if he hadn't heard the witch's request. "We also-"

"DAMON! SHUT UP!"

"Gladly," beamed Damon – the bright smile was clearly fake.

Bonnie looked from Elena to Damon, once again examining the scratches and the give-a-way button.

"Wait … Wait, wait, those scratches look fresh," she pointed out, eying Damon's flawed skin, "You weren't-? You didn't-?" She glanced at Elena, with a deep frown. "Oh … god." Poor Bonnie looked about ready to pass out.

"Oh, yeah. We were making out just then on the bed. Until you interrupted, that is-"Damon commented irritably, rolling his eyes. My, he was feeling witty today. The shielding was certainly working.

Knowingly, Elena had been slightly short with the details of hers and Damon's covetous clinches - and with good reason; how could Elena stand there, before her best friend of many years, (who despised Damon to an un heard of degree) and merely admit the contents of the transgressions she and her boyfriend's brother had committed. However, Elena was greatly naive to believe even the tiniest fraction that Damon would allow their first confrontation to pass him by without expanding upon the brunette's clearly minimized response.

Her head instantly snapped to Damon - her eyes burning into his flawless face, threatening him profusely to halt his murmurings; for, she was sure Bonnie had predicted the outcome of his gloating. Unfortunately for the human, her efforts were deemed as discard able - both Bonnie, too engrossed with the accumulating levels of horror engraving into her features at every extended sentence and Damon too prosperous in his story-telling. Was this all just a game to him? Her feelings; the captivating kisses, the tantalizing touches the two had shared..?

The mortal rebuked herself. Of course those foolish thoughts were untrue - Damon was merely prideful; and perhaps, too prideful for his own good. Despite the tight clench of Elena's fits at the end of the arms barricaded firmly across her chest - Elena found herself becoming lost... In the sea of memories, every second the immortal recited, she fell further and further into the dark pit ruled by lust and hunger; moisture oozed from the pores inside her mouth as she allowed uncontrollable images to penetrate her already-feverish mind...

'_Leaving her prior position beside the handsome hunter, Elena's palms pounded themselves, hard against his marble chest and Elena forced the immortal aback aggressively; she held no regard whatsoever for Bonnie's presence and nor would she register hearing her best friend's inevitable complaints and sounds of disgust at the scene unfolding in front of her._

_Damon's eyes were unfocused for the smallest amount of a second, obviously bewildered by Elena's sudden thrust and ultimately dominance of his body; however, no words were needed for the second's space in between the two lascivious lovers as the vampire's lips curled and a sensual smirk licked his lips. Elena barely had time to notice the quick flash of light within those blazing blues before his mouth seized her own; her hands scrambled to his belt, tearing viciously at the fabric, like a predator desperate to ravish its prey as their lips continued to mesh magically against one another's. Damon needed no assistance in partaking in the offer her body had enthusiastically given. His hands grasped at her thighs, pinning her up against the wall and smoothing, gripping and caressing every part of her; she yelped in excitement and called his name; that he returned...'_

Wait... Elena halted her mind's frisky fantasy and realised it was not Damon's seductive composure she heard, but Bonnie's scream of frustration; she blinked numerous times - releasing the teeth she had no idea had become punctured within her lower lip and flashing her eyes to Damon.

"You. Out, NOW!" she ordered, her demand accompanied by frantic flaying of her arms and she, with all the strength she could muster - forced the immortal from the bedroom.

Every ounce of Elena's body language was clearly demonstrating one thing and one thing only to Damon: she wanted him. It was so blatant that Damon found it quite difficult to hold back the laugh that tickled his tongue at how carelessly obvious she was being. It was almost as if – as if she were fantasising about something. The mere, erotic thought of Elena dreaming up profound notions of him intrigued Damon intensely; so much so that an inevitable smirk curled his lips. He made sure this vicious smile was applicable to the eyes of the attractive Gilbert, not at all wanting to miss her reaction. He made it lucid that, on a scale, he knew what was going through that tainted mind of hers. He could see it in his own delusional imagination – almost as if he were witnessing a projection; an appealing one, at that.

Bonnie couldn't believe her ears. There was nothing - nothing - inexcusable about this. Truthfully, she hadn't expected such activity from Elena.

Last time Bonnie checked, she loved Stefan and wanted no romance at all with his older brother. But, apparently, things had changed within the space of a few weeks. Bonnie really didn't know what to think of it all. It's wrong, her mind was telling her desperately, frustratingly whilst another part of her brain was digressing. What's so bad about it, really? Several times, in order to discard these meandering ponderings, Bonnie blinked, once again finding herself centre within the reality of the situation. So many complications came with what Elena and Damon had done, and if Damon were to just leave, Bonnie would be able to explain. But she didn't want to put any information across whilst he was present, for if she knew Elena well enough, she wouldn't have wanted Damon to know about this just yet. Not until she was over the shock first.

After all, it was all on her conscience. Elena was the prime part of what had happened between her and Damon – a vampire.

"Alright, alright," Damon responded calmly to Elena's sudden orders. The devious smirk was still gracing his lips with its presence. "I'll leave if you so wish. But I'll be waiting."

He passed by Elena gracefully, surpassing his smirk with an impish wink. And with that, he left the room, detouring back down the corridor to his bedroom.

Elena orbs continued to scold into Damon's blazing blues - the ignition of lust and loathe far too potent for Elena to ignore; she was struggling to keep a leash upon her irrevocable urges and the monstrous passion the vampire brought fourth within the young human. After meeting and evidently falling in love with Stefan, Elena felt as though she would never love anyone more - but she had been wrong. So very wrong. And now as she held steadfast to the glare engraved into her fierce features, the Gilbert girl could decipher whether she wanted to kiss him, or ultimately kill him; and perhaps the most disturbing thing of all... Which one of the two options she desired the most.

"Yes... Please do," Elena managed between her teeth, continuing to usher him out of the bedroom; despite her brave front, Elena was crumbling inside, and fast - his snarky comments were less than helpful.

The door was still closed. Relief flooded through Bonnie at Damon's departure. She had always heavily disliked the inappropriately murderous vampire, no matter how charming he turned out to be. He was evil and cruel and manipulative, and nothing would ever change that about him. Nothing would ever change her opinion of him, either. But now that Damon was no longer present, Bonnie took her chance. She rounded on Elena, a look of pure horror and mortification coating her dark features.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE?" she demanded at an intolerably loud volume. But she didn't care. She had to tell Elena what her crime had caused her…

**Steph+Jackie x3  
><strong>_What has Elena done? ;)_


	13. The Consequence

**A/N: Hey-ho guys, here we are, back with another instalment of this fic. (: Again, your subscriptions ect.. are great. (: And in case any of you gorgeous readers were having trouble with reviewing we've enabled reviews from those of you without accounts now. :P (Because we're tards and forgot to do that in the first place. XD) Any who, in this chapter we finally gain knowledge of why Damon and Elena are suddenly so attached. ;) Review for us… Pretty please? :P**

**Chapter 13: The Consequence. **

His suggestive referral was the last straw relating to Elena's self-control as a flicker of anger glittered within those chocolate pools; however, before the brunette was able to deliver the brunt of her no doubt now-raging temper, Damon had, thankfully disappeared. But it wasn't Damon, the immortal rogue, Elena was now faced with - but her best friend Bonnie, and due to the look upon the witch's facial features... She suddenly wished Damon hadn't departed like she'd demanded. The mortal swallowed hard and flinched at Bonnie's very audible and extremely scolding rebuke.

"Bonnie, look, I know it was wrong! But please, please keep your voice down!" she almost begged as she advanced further toward her best friend; Bonnie was merely staring at her, twitching every now and again, as if attempting to contain the sudden anger building up vastly within her small frame "Stefan can't know.. He won't - please don't tell him. Please!"

Elena was not normally one for pleading but when the situation called for it - desperate times called for desperate measures; and Elena currently could not pin point another scenario as agonizing as the one she was undergoing now.

"Did you... Promise him anything, Elena?" she paused, looking toward her best friend with concern rather than disapproval "Anything at all regarding commitment - love, any variations?" The witch's response was odd and unusually off topic for a girl who'd grown up to be so incredibly precise, but Elena answered nonetheless.

Elena became instantly alarmed as she replied, her voice conveying a rather defensive edge to it.

"Bonnie, I don't really see how-"

"You did, didn't you?" she responded, her question ultimately answered at the duck of Elena's head; Bonnie shook her own, her curls bouncing as she did so "Oh no... Oh no, no no!"

Perplexed, the brunette raised a single eyebrow at her best friend as she advanced slowly towards her; her hand settled upon the witch's shoulder and Bonnie looked up, meeting her gaze.

"Bonnie? What... What is it?" she questioned quietly, hesitantly.

"You. And. Damon...Imprinted," she gasped.

* * *

><p>Though Damon would've liked to stay behind and watch the dramatic scene between Bonnie and Elena unfold, he discovered that he would maintain his mandatory 'gentleman' trait if he were to leave. And, after a shove and a biting order from Elena, he had departed, a smirk still etched across his lips – lips that still burnt from intimate contact that had inevitably occurred minutes previously. Damon ran his tongue across the pale skin of his pout, remembering the profound affections he had shared with Elena. He could still taste her there; the flavour of her lips had left behind a residue of something desirably sweet. For a moment, Damon relished in the remains, before discovering a dull ache in his jaw. He was hungry, and recollections of Elena were only intensifying that, and now that he thought about it, he had been for a while.<p>

Damon was surprised he hadn't sunk his teeth into the sensitive part of Elena's creamy neck, but he didn't ponder on that for too long. Poisonous thoughts of the young woman would solely distract him – tempt him, even - besides, he didn't want to make her a meal. It truly was the last thing he wanted.

Damon pushed open the door to his bedroom and strode across the polished floorboards. He spotted his black shirt strewn carelessly across the black satin bed covers, despite it being camouflaged amongst the rest of the black material. He scooped it up, only to remember it was soaked in blood. Instantly, he permitted it to flutter from his fingers, and instead grabbed a clean, dark-grey shirt from a nearby closet. He slid the expensive material onto his muscular form and buttoned up from the bottom within seconds.

It didn't take particularly long to approach the window and round-off with artistic flair over the ledge. He landed neatly on his feet, just aside from the front door of the Boarding House.

Within a moment, he was surrounded by vast amounts of foliage, vegetation and shrubbery of all different species, but what they were did not matter to Damon. He was far from interested in different types of trees and plants that grew in the forest of Mystic Falls. All he that his precision was upon was finding something delicious to drain – he would leave nature and all the crap about ecosystems to his dull and much-too-passionate brother. Unfortunately, in an aspect such as that, the two brothers were completely different. Stefan was most likely the type to sit facing a landscape with a sketchbook, talking to himself about colour and contrast, whereas Damon … He really couldn't care less. Alcohol and girls were more his thing. It had been a jigsaw piece of his personality since turning thirteen. Damon reminisced in the memories of his childhood as he flew at impeccable speed through the mass amounts of foliage.

Typically, he was careful enough to leave out thoughts of his mildly abusive father as well as those of good times with his sibling – back then his best friend.

From a mile or so off, Damon could sense a human presence – one seemingly volatile. It was most certainly female and she was quite distinctly alone. Damon sped up his pace, the cool spring-breeze whipping through his dark hair. He was eager to pinpoint this particularly alluring aura. And within seconds, his mission had been accomplished.

He spotted her, a metre or so ahead, wandering aimlessly about a forlorn tree trunk. Damon took a few breathing seconds to just watch her, to examine her, to learn as much about her as he could from sight, smell and all other senses. The girl was pretty. She had long, straight, brunette hair that hung just above her waist. The shining locks reminded him of somebody – somebody important. A girl he would never be able to erase from his intoxicated mind.

She was definitely shorter than this special girl he could not stop thinking about, but only by a few inches. Her stride wasn't nearly as delicate and as elegant as the one he knew, and as he neared the girl, he spotted yet another specific detail. To Damon, it was the most important detail.

This girl's eyes were a cerulean blue. Elena Gilbert's were deep, chocolate brown. Though the stranger's eyes were beautiful, Elena's were intense pools of some sort of magical, hypnotic liquid. And once you peered into the enthralling, spellbinding gaze of the young woman there was no escaping her charm. Both he and Stefan had proved this theory. They were walking-talking evidence.

"Hello," Damon greeted with a handsome smile, his eyes flashing deviously as the girl tilted her head to the side to scrutinize him with those very pretty eyes.

"Do I know you?" she questioned quizzically, a bemused frown evident upon her features.

She crossed her arms almost defiantly against her chest, apparently pondering on whether or not she had seen Damon before. With a shake of his head, he had answered her question.

"No, I'm afraid not," he sighed, taking a few detouring steps towards her. "Unfortunate, really. You're quite the picture. Excuse me if I'm rude, but what's your name, may I ask?"

Upon such a formal deliverance of speech, the girl blushed noticeably. She drew up a hand and swept strands of her hair from her eyes – a well-known motion of flattery.

"I'm Ellen," the girl replied, smiling sweetly. She didn't seem very interested in Damon's name; he silently thanked the lord for that. However, he couldn't help but notice the similarity in her name and Elena's. Was this just some freaky coincidence? He let it pass by, choosing to ignore what most superstitious would have labelled a 'sign.'

"Such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman," simpered Damon, his voice hushed to a husky murmur.

The girl, Ellen, appeared luminously intrigued. This time, it was she who took a few steps closer. They were almost touching.

Damon could smell the mildest amount of alcohol on her breath. At so early in the morning?

"I could say the same 'bout you," Ellen said with a slight wink. It was a clumsy gesture, but it made Damon laugh shortly, nonetheless. "Maybe we should … hook up sometime?"

"Mm, I'm interested."

A swift pout surpassed her previously sweet-and-innocent smile, and she lunged forwards, placing her lips forcefully to Damon's. Instantly, she hooked her arms around his neck. But it didn't last very long. A horrible feeling of wariness shot through Damon at impossible frequencies – these feelings were so forceful that he found himself pushing Ellen away harshly.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't-" he gasped.

She looked dumbstruck and quite hurt. Damon didn't know what to say. Quite frankly, he didn't care about Ellen at all. A thousand thoughts and feelings and notions and memories had collapsed on him all at once, just as Ellen had kissed him. The only impulse he had was to run. Run away from everything weird and everything so wrong about what was happening here. And so he did. He departed the forest at top speed, leaving Ellen to watch him abandon her, evidently stumped.

It was Elena. All Elena. Thoughts of her were disrupting him, changing him, doing god knows what to him. It was just too ... bemusing to comprehend at the moment.

* * *

><p>Elena's eyes widened, narrowed, widened and narrowed once again. She stared emotionlessly into the eyes of her best friend. The mortal couldn't have possible heard her best friend correctly - could she? Imprint... What in heaven's name was an imprint? And with Damon, oh hell - that couldn't be good. Elena's mouth opened as she attempted to reply to the witch, but found herself unable to utter a single audible word from her pouted lips. Bonnie's eyes examined Elena with acute curiosity as she, instead broke the accumulated silence between the two of them.<p>

"Elena.. Elena, are you alright?" Bonnie queried toward her best friend; but Elena could no longer process her words; her bambis darted erratically around the confines of the spare room and consequently, the lines of her vision began to blur together.

A sudden rush of nausea overwhelmed the young Gilbert girl as she staggered backward a step or two, but even one was enough for the witch before her to become alarmed.

"Elena! Elena - are you okay?" Bonnie questioned hastily as she advanced forward, taking Elena by each of her wrists and supporting the traumatized teenager upright "Elena, come on, say something! You're worrying me now."

And in all honesty, Elena realized the worry the witch must've been undergoing, but found herself still unable to communicate with words; flashing her wary unfocused eyes up, they held Bonnie's for a mere moment or two before Elena fell limp into Bonnie's arms. Her brown orbs snapped to an immediate shut and everything went black.

Without exception, each one of her senses had immediately shut down and Elena found herself lost, wandering aimlessly through the depths of her imagination and roaming along a path leading toward the inevitable unknown. All thoughts had also departed from the mortal's mind, this time though, with a slight difference. One single, definite word remained, persistently stalking the girl's subconscious - even after various failed attempted to banish it. Imprint. As if flicking a mental switch within her mind, Elena's body jolted and thrust the girl from her sudden slumber; thus sending her breath into a fast collection of inhales and a wild moment or two of blinking. Elena wasn't totally sure how long she'd been unconscious, but Bonnie had managed to usher the brunette to the bed. She sat up, brushing several strands of stray hair out of her face and turned to a now-rather-relieved Bonnie.

"Oh, thank goodness, Elena! I thought I would've had to call Stefan up here!" Bonnie said, her voice high in exasperation, but the mention of her boyfriend's name had the Gilbert on edge.

She shook her head fiercely as the witch tossed Elena and odd expression.

"How long was I out then?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Bonnie seemed to think for a few seconds before responding "Only for a minute or so; but..."

"Imprint. Tell me about this imprint; and for once, I'm telling you not to spare me the details," the phrase which perhaps was supposed to be said as a query escaped the brunette's lips more as a command.

Inhaling deeply, Bonnie nodded, and evidently, explained everything. Bonnie's explanation was accompanied with many a grimace, a stare and the occasionally cuss from Elena's mouth - but at least the brunette hadn't found herself repeating the involuntary response of fainting. That experience was not one the mortal felt inclined to revisit anytime soon. A minute or so later, she'd composed herself enough to speak, and although her words were a timid whisper, they'd been chosen carefully.

"And you're sure; you're it couldn't be anything else? You're positive that Damon and I, we imprinted?"

Bonnie was fighting with the urge she held so profusely to comfort her best friend, but also with the confident knowledge concerning the sacred bond only a vampire and human of true and compassionate exchanges could possess. Deciding Elena would benefit more from her honesty, she replied with a soft nod; distracting herself, Elena glanced down at her wrist, eyeing the time and gasping. She almost sprung from her position at the bed and a bewildered complexion overshadowed Bonnie's previously concerned facial features.

"Elena?" she voiced, rising from her crouched position into a stand.

"It's nothing; i just realised the time, that's all," she paused, her eyes averting from different angles of the room; a groan escaped her lips as she muttered something intelligible under her breath "God, I just realised I left something in Damon's room!" she began motioning to the door, stopping at the predicted warning escaping Bonnie's lips. "Yes, yes! I'll make sure I'm gone before he comes back!"

And with that, she departed from the room and manoeuvred her way along the corridor and into Damon's bedroom. She pushed hesitantly at the mahogany wood, almost as if she were to press too hard upon it then the dark, now compelling secret she held within her heart would become exposed.

Casting ridiculous thoughts such as that far away, she slipped into the gracious and spacious room, once again familiarizing herself with the scent and sight of it. It was magnificent. Elena would not, and could not deny that fact. The bedroom was very Damonized indeed, and although it still puzzled her as to why this was only the second time the room had been graced with her presence, Elena couldn't help but feel as though something was missing -someone. She was at the bed now, eyeing her leather jacket; without a deciphering thought, she seized habitance upon the bed, feeling the smooth texture of the satin sheets and helplessly falling back into them. The doe-eyed beauty gripped her jacket between her fingers before adjusting her position and snuggling into Damon's mattress; her lids suddenly felt incredibly heavy and a tired sigh slid from her mouth. Minor moments of linger upon Damon's bed couldn't hurt. Right?

* * *

><p>Damon supposed that, now, the hospital was really the only remaining option. If he were to persist with this uncanny behaviour, then fresh blood was no longer a possibility – at least not for now. He needed his irresistible charm and flirtatious flair when it came to luring in his prey, but today – all of a sudden, it seemed – it wasn't playing up to standards. And Damon only had the faintest idea why.<p>

Donor blood wasn't as succulent as that straight from a person with the aid of his knife-sharp canines, however it was better than nothing at all. It didn't take very long to approach the hospital; much thanks to Damon's extravagant speed, he was there within a minute or so and walking directly past the automatic doors, without even a glance back. Almost instantly, a plump woman in formal clothing approached him. She wore half-moon spectacles and wore her boyish-cut, greying hair wavy. Overall, she appeared relatively kind and friendly, and her motherly tone confirmed that.

"Hello dear, how can I help you?" she chimed. Her soft voice was accompanied with a welcoming smile. In her arms she held a clipboard, with a pen poised above the sheet of paper clipped to it. She looked expectant, but patient. Damon simply smiled back.

"I wonder if you could show me to the blood-donor unit?" he questioned, emphasizing his apparent pleasantry. But for the first time, the woman (Damon presumed she as the secretary) looked disapproving.

"I'm sorry, but that's a private ward," she replied with a subtle shake of her head. "You can't go up there unless you have an appointment that has been pre-booked, or-"

But Damon cut her off. He couldn't afford to be denied anything right now, especially with the potent ache in his jaw intensifying. He resorted to the one thing nobody could resist – compulsion.

"Take me to the blood donor ward and make sure it's empty. Don't let anybody else in and then leave."

His tone was deadly quiet and dangerously low. His steely glare did not waver from her mesmerised own. She peered up at him in a dream-like fashion and before she could even utter a word of protest, she was turning on her heel and leading him out of the hospital lobby. At each step through the corridors that strong smelt of antibacterial, Damon's hunger levels increased. He really should've paid attention previously, but he was so wrapped up in Elena that he hadn't even given the jolt in his jaw a second thought.

Elena … Captivating, distracting, beautiful, persuasive and just everything Damon ever wanted. But would he ever get her to himself? After everything? And with Stefan still in the picture? He doubted it … And that thought alone was disheartening.

The plump secretary finally pushed open the double doors of the donor wards. Mercifully, it was deserted.

All that was present were various cabinets and fridges full of pills and needles and syringes and, most importantly, blood.

"Thank you very much," said Damon to the nurse, as she stopped just beyond the double doors. She directed him a curt nod, before departing, still supporting quite a dazed expression. Damon waited until she'd gone right around the corner, before immediately advancing towards the nearest fridge of blood sachets. He yanked open the door and pulled three pouches off their hooks, pocketing them amidst the confines of his jeans pockets. He took a fourth and uncorked it, lifting the liquid-filled packet to his lips and pouring it into his mouth. Much to Damon's consternation, the blood was cold. Of course, he preferred it warm and fresh from a body, but this would have to do for now. After all, this was easier to deal with than a hunt gone wrong. Despite the chilled consistency of the blood, it was refreshing and was a start to quenching his thirst.

Once finished, he discarded the sachet into the depths of a nearby waste-bin, before departing the eerily silent ward and the hospital altogether.

* * *

><p>After a few minutes, (or that's what the time frame had seemed like to Elena, anyway) Elena heard the creak of a door down the hall and then the close of one; Elena continued to listen closely as she registered a set of dainty footsteps motioning over the floorboards. Bonnie. She'd obviously found it fitting to make a departure from the boarding house; but as the sound of her steps neared Damon's room, Elena felt a jolt within her gut. A sharp one, enough to cause her eyes to flash open in panic. What if Bonnie were to pause by the door and become curious and in order to feed that curiosity enter Damon's room? Elena could only guess what the witch would have in store for the Gilbert girl if she were to catch her casually lying upon his bed.<p>

Elena felt herself shudder at the mere thought of it; but in all honesty, that sudden worry had caused Elena to question her seemingly peculiar actions herself. Just why exactly had she been diverted in her collection of her jacket and made habitat upon Damon's rather comfortable and very Damon-scented bed? The mortal could only assume that it was merely because of the severe lack of sleep she'd been subjected to; and although Elena had never slept upon Damon's bed before - she'd made out with, and very nearly made love to the immortal of whom owned it - banking on her previous experience of laying upon it, she was sure the mattress would provide her with a pleasurable and nightmare-free sleep.

Perhaps the thing of which bothered Elena the most was the fact that she felt so natural, lying on his bed this way; as if this was her bed to use for whatever and whenever she liked. It was indeed disturbing that although Stefan's bedroom was only a couple of doors away and that Bonnie was mere metres from the door to the elder Salvatore's room, Elena felt no real need to adjust her position even mildly. She felt so safe, so at home with the tender caress of the black, satin sheets beneath her aching skin and the smooth foundation of his pillow beneath the right half of her face. Thankfully, Bonnie soon made her way past Damon's bedroom, without a moment's hesitation and continued her journey down the stairs until Elena's human ears could no longer detect any movement whatsoever echoing from outside of the door.

She sighed contently as her lids fell shut once more; she inhaled, the deepest infection of dark roses and many other fragrances she couldn't quite fathom flooded her system. The immortal's cologne mixed with the smell of his natural odour was the scent she was sure she was inhaling, the smell of which was doubtlessly the most fantastic substance she'd ever encountered in her entire life. Without receiving confirmation from her mind, Elena burrowed her face further into Damon's pillow, searching for where his odour was strongest and squeezed her eyes tightly; secretly her mind hoped if her eyes were closed and all other sense of anything had been ultimately shut down, then Elena would've been able to fool her mind into thinking that he was here with her. And though she would never admit it to anyone, most especially not Damon himself - she missed him. Irrevocably.

It was a pathetic realization to come to, but Elena momentarily banished the puerile thought of denial away from her mind and focused upon her heart's dearest desires, the face of which somehow managed to merge itself between every linking thought she ever had. Truth be told, it was undeniably, and unconditionally - Damon Salvatore. Upon that rather intriguing and developed thought, Elena once again attempted to give herself up to her subconscious.

* * *

><p>"Where did you go?" demanded Stefan as soon as Damon walked through the front door of the Boarding House.<p>

Damon stopped in his hurried tracks towards the staircase and turned to face his younger brother. He raised an eyebrow.

"Since when do you care?" he retorted with a callous shrug.

"Well, I didn't see you leave-" Stefan responded, frowning. But Damon interrupted.

"That's because I'm invisible!" he whispered mockingly and then left for the stairs, a smile plastered to his lips.

Damon approached the second landing, listening out for the accusatory banter he'd abandoned previously. But as far as he could tell, he could hear nothing – Elena and Bonnie seemed to have finished their conversation.

Damon sighed with relief and advanced towards his bedroom. He pushed open the door and stepped into dim light, his eyes searching the near-darkness. The room looked pretty much the same as how he had left it earlier … Except from a differential upon his bed. It was Elena.

From then on, the passage of time was unclear until footsteps, a different set this time, controlled and careful footsteps roamed closer and directed themselves into Damon's room. Elena's hearing attempted to muster the intruder to her privacy, but her nose noted the said intruder's identity. The same scent of which Elena had been engrossing herself within for endless minutes escaped into the atmosphere around her and she instantly knew who it was.

Damon slipped the blood sachets from his pocket and discarded them onto his dresser, thus completely forgetting about them. He then made his way towards his bed and climbed onto it, his eyes not once leaving the resting form of Elena. Her eyes were closed, but Damon was quite sure she was not yet asleep. His blue-eyes lingered upon her face; she was just as beautiful when so relaxed as she was when awake and radically active.

Damon lay down upon the unoccupied side of the bed, reaching out to slowly and lovingly lock an arm around Elena's waist and an arm around just above her chest.

He held her close to his own warm body, and then placed a gentle, lingering kiss to her bare shoulder and another to the top of her head. His fingers caressed the skin on her arm, the slight friction sending waves of adoration through him. He held onto her tightly, not ever wanting to let go. Elena was his angel. She always would be.

He was home; he was here. And for a split, but most definite second, Elena's world felt utterly complete. Elena knew Damon wouldn't be fooled by her facade of being unconscious to the world, but it intrigued her to witness how he would react to seeing his brother's girlfriend curled upon his bed. The bed of which they'd very nearly consummated a second round of sexual intercourse; as heartless as it may have seemed, Elena hadn't been able to bring herself to regret kissing and touching Damon - not had felt guilt for the tingles he'd given her. They were connected - by an imprint now, but even before they'd secured the forbidden vampire-human bond, there had always been something between Damon and Elena; something far more unbreakable than an imprint. A feeling of which was so strong, yet had remained disappointingly dormant for so long that she had now allowed Damon to let loose within her soul.

Seconds latter to Damon's arrival, he had already motioned toward the bed; she could hear the tender breaths escaping his lips and desperately longed for those vacant lips to brush against her own one last time... Just for one second. However, managing to contain the restless amiable animal within her, she allowed her body to be handled by the unusually-gentle Salvatore and moulded herself into his form. She was unable to suppress a flinch as a bolt of electricity shot through her being at Damon's mouth to her revealed flesh. Composing herself briskly, although still finding herself unable to move in fear of being discovered in her make-believe slumber, she simply lay there before finally falling into the depths of her subconscious.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	14. Don't Let Go, Never Give Up

**A/N: Haii guys. :B So, I'm being naughty and slotting you this chapter in between exams. (So I expect a whole chunk of reviews telling me how grateful you are. :/ :L) This chapter is a bittersweet little insight upon Damon and Elena mirroring and voicing their true feelings. If only the other knew… ay? Inspired by Wonderful life – Hurts. Thank you to our lovely reviews and please review for us after reading – peace out! :) **

**Chapter 14: Don't Let Go, Never Give Up.**

The moment was somewhat sweet. There were no words shared between both vampire and human, nor were there lustful actions. It was just the two of them, Damon and Elena, embracing one another as if they had been in love since they had first met. The differential in perception was endearing to Damon, despite it not usually being something he was welcomed to. He had never really been labelled as the affectionate type; more or less the … alluring, licentious, dominating type. But he liked to be both. It was just that not many people knew that, simply because he hadn't let them know. It was how he preferred it, if he were to be honest. His true self … closed off from the majority of the world.

It surprised Damon when Elena nestled herself into Damon's chest. He responded with a faint frown and a stronger hold upon her slender form. He stroked her soft cheek with his index finger, watching her as she drifted into a peaceful slumber.

He knew that she was asleep now; her heart had slowed to a tranquil pattern of beats, thumping lightly against her chest rhythmically. He kissed her forehead, as if to wish her goodnight, and whispered amiable notions to her; things that he wouldn't say if she were awake.

"I love you, Elena," he sighed.

There wasn't a trace of happiness upon his serene features. Just of … concern and wonderment. He was truly curious as to what she would say to this statement if she were to be awake, especially after what she had said to him earlier on. To her, he was nothing more than a sex toy; a replacement for boredom. Just memorising those few hurtful seconds caused Damon's heart to ache. But he surpassed it by giving Elena a gentle squeeze.

"Whether you know that, I'm not sure," he continued to whisper "You might think that maybe my mind is still poisoned by Katherine, that I think of you as nothing more than her replacement or as Katherine herself, but I _don't_. With Katherine it was never love. It wasn't real. But with _you_, it is." He paused for a moment, staring off into the dark depths of his room, the occasional sigh escaping his lips "I know I'm a killer. I'm a murderer with very few morals to those who barely know me. But I think you're the redemption I need. You can redeem me of everything I've done, everything I still like doing. When I'm with you, I'm a completely different person. But I can't be with you all the time because you love Stefan … And we can't be anything if you love my brother. I wish I could just take you in my arms and whisk you away from him and from everything that wants to hurt you. But I can't. As much as I want to, I can't take you away from_ him_. I know that, if I did that, I'd hurt you. And I don't want to hurt you. But no matter what, Elena, no matter who you choose to love, I'll still fight for you. I'll protect you with _everything _I've got."

Damon heaved a great sigh. "But that's the question. Who _do_ you want?"

Elena's first thought upon realising Damon had entered the room was that of internal relief; this had reflected her body's reactions somewhat instantly; her heart rate had slowed down considerably and the feeling of undeniable comfort and of a homely nature overwhelmed the mortal seemingly immediately. However, as she felt the weight of his (healthy) body cause the mattress to dip a degree, mild alarm echoed through the realms of her mind, causing the Gilbert girl to become a little more alert than the moment he'd first arrived. But at the tingle of his tender touch and the careful placement of his lips upon her skin, as if she were a delicate flower not to be ruffled, caused a pang of shy guilt start to flow from the pit of her stomach. How could she have even considered the thought that Damon would take advantage of her whilst she was vulnerable? She knew him better than that.

Elena however could not deny how odd it felt for Damon's arms to be barricaded around her in an action of which was not in the slightest spun from a sexual nature; and, as unusual as she viewed the notion, the human found herself helplessly embracing it, thus showing the shuffling of her body closer to his. And as if by obeying some unwritten law, Elena had, just for now, for this short period of time, opened both her heart and her mind to the impeccable immortal; her mind of course roamed and frolicked within the fields of her imagination - portraying wonderful memories mixed with possible future precognitions; but her body however was trapped within the presence, and without her conscious' guidance it merely did as it pleased - feeble to any sense of direction from any source. His words to the brunette were regrettably wasted as she would never hold any knowledge of his sweet whisperings; nevertheless, he seemed to continue to speak into the empty air.

Perhaps he preferred it this way, confessing his feelings into the vacant, uninterested air? If only the vampire knew that if he were to admit this, all of this to the young Gilbert now then she would embrace him truly, and fully - rejecting the irrational need of which she felt to forsake the both of their hearts. As if confirming this, her right hand adjusted from its prior, unmoving position at the pillow beside her face and reached upward. It delicately gripped the collar of his shirt as her body merged closer toward his own. Her slender leg slipped through the slight gap in between his as she settled.

Silence followed Damon's rhetorical question; a lingering question he so badly wanted answered. But Elena hadn't heard what he had said; he had made sure of it. There was simply no way of ever finding out who she really was to choose, unless he asked her when sentient. But he couldn't do that. He couldn't find the audacity in him to do it. What if she said she wanted Stefan, right to his face?

Awkward … mused his mind. He couldn't help but agree with it.

In his arms, Elena shifted, burrowing herself even closer to his cloth-clad chest. She wedged a leg between his thighs and lightly gripped the collar of his shirt with her nimble fingers. Damon allowed her to make herself comfortable, before shifting his arms so that one snaked around her back and the other draped across her hip, embracing her in a cocoon-like hold. He took a few moments to just watch her and admire her peaceful expression. He had never seen Elena so serene before.

It was calming even to him. Damon reached up to brush a few strands of hair away from her face with his fingers, his lips vaguely parted as he peered adoringly into her unblemished, unflawed face. Why did everything about her have to be so perfect? It just made him want to love her more, and if the love wasn't returned, he would be left disheartened. In all aspects, her perfection was a disadvantage, even if not to him.

Damon placed one last kiss upon her delicate skin before averting his gaze from her face and settling it upon the pitch-black ceiling instead. There, his thoughts momentarily took over, swooping down on him like daunting, winged creatures. He didn't want to think or ponder on anything that may cause him pain. He was so very good at shutting it all out … Why was it proving particularly difficult to do so right now? Maybe it was because Elena, the one person with the capability to somewhat alter him, was beside him, and curled into him, perfectly comfortable …

He tried as best he could not to think about what polluted his mind then, and instead focused on the darkness that enveloped him and Elena. By now, the sun had set, drowning Mystic Falls in coal-black night time. Not even the moon was emitting silvery shimmers through the wide-spread curtains. There was no light, he didn't need any light. He had his sunshine, his moonlight, his artificial light right there in his arms, where it belonged.

Upon Damon's last, lingering sentence, something impossible, yet true occurred. The elder brother's question had obviously been meant as a rhetorical one, however, for as long as Damon plagued her dreams and her day-walking hours - Elena's mind would be forever linked to his own.

"Damon..." she breathed, almost inaudibly before snuggling her face into his chest, completely unaware of her single, significant murmur.

A whisper of his name rippled softly through the air, as nothing more than a fatigued breath. For a moment, Damon considered that he had imagined it, but he had glanced at Elena just as her lips moved. And straight after he'd spoken the one question he desired an answer for out loud. Was she … answering it? Damon's heart gave a jolt as he stole yet another look at the woman in his arms. If only … She was asleep and had no idea of his previous heartfelt speech. She just sensed his presence. That was all it could be, right?

Damon buried all other possibilities amongst everything else behind his barricades. There, it joined everything else he refused to know, feel or think about. Elena's skin felt cold, much alike Damon's insides currently. To ensure she was warm enough, Damon carefully stripped off his jacket and draped it over her. He then reached down to single-handedly unbutton the front of his shirt, granting Elena skin-on-skin access, before pulling her closer. Following this, he closed his eyes against all penetrating thoughts, against the overwhelming darkness his eyes had now grown used to and against the breath-taking beauty nestled against him. And within seconds, he was asleep, dreaming of nothing but a deep, dark abyss. It was peaceful, serene and undisturbed. For once.

The night was long, and her dreams were vivid; they were a considerable comparison to that of the previous time the young Gilbert had fallen asleep within the flawless immortal's arms. And despite the fact the location of which she had done so had been that of a dingy, dismal tomb and the situation regarding why the two of them had been entrapped within there was far from appealing... The dreams of which plagued her mind that night had been all but negative. The presence of Damon Salvatore was also dominate, his face flashing over her bambi-coloured irises and his voice lingering about her being. She found herself once again in a field, a field of which held every smell of a heavenly grove; blooming flowers, freshly mowed grass amongst numerous wondrous stenches she couldn't decipher. However, as the brunette began roaming throughout the impossible jade garden, she felt him...

If Elena had've been awake and this had not been a cruel, yet coveted trick of her subconscious then Elena's reaction to a smooth hand grasping at the skin of her upper arm would've been considerably different. Although, since Elena's conscious mind was not currently alert, the mortal's orbs flashed upward, catching the blazing blue seas of the holographic image of the man beside her. No hesitation was necessary in order to perform her next action, her hand had a mind of its own; it cupped Damon's perfectly sculptured cheek and she leant toward his face. No words were needed, nor did they matter; Elena was here where she belonged - mortal and immortal kissing, exchanging the undeniably affection of which one another held so deep, so dearly.

Their amiable osculate lasted for hours, but as her dream faded into a hazy mist of colours and then evaporated into nothingness - Elena couldn't suppress the feeling of loss. Of sudden melancholy, at the thought of returning to the dreaded state of reality that she knew in her head was all too inevitable. As her eyelashes fluttered, she felt herself stir and mentally prepared her mind for the day ahead, and the doubtless agony pretending her feelings for Damon were non-existent would cause both herself and the seemingly nonchalant vampire. But of course Elena knew different; Damon was vulnerable, broken and fragile. She would fix him, she secretly vowed that knowledge to herself, determined to make it a reality. He was her Damon; and forever that's what he would stay.

Elena's mahogany fires bored into his flawless face, the sleeping fallen angel was so at peace, every line of pain had left his features and all of which remained was his clearly impeccable complexion. She trailed her forefinger across his lips, her tip tingling with the sheer intensity of which their skin-on-skin contact caused her to feel. Still gazing, her mouth opened and a flood of words, each accompanied with a gentle caress of her mouth to his jawline, neck and cheeks escaped her usually fiery exterior.

"I wish you could just take me in your arms and whisk me away from him, and from everything that wants to hurt me, us," she paused, inhaling a sharp breath feeling her rims brim with moisture - but forced herself onward; the facade of lies deteriorated "But I can't. As much as I want to, I can't hurt him."

Upon her closing sentence, Elena's hand smoothed its way across his revealed chest until finally, both of her hands came to rest at his neck; her fingers sprawled across the nape of it as she unthreaded her lodged leg from in between his two.

"I love you, Damon," she said, with as much voice of which was possible before flinching at a sudden vibration from her pocket; reluctantly, she peeled her hands from Damon's neck and flipped it open.

The text was from Stefan; her boyfriend Stefan. That confirmation seemed to bring forth something in Elena as she climbed from Damon's bed in shame; removing his jacket from her body and replacing it with her own. Elena slipped from underneath his grip and motioned toward the door. Unable to resist, she glanced backward at her slumbering Salvatore love and whispered a single sentence before hurrying away.

"Whether you know that or not, I'm not sure."

It was a shame Damon hadn't been alert to witness the sweet inflictions Elena presented so adoringly upon him. Amidst his slumber, he was unaware of the gentle kisses and supple whispers that Elena's lips bestowed upon his pale skin. Each tender exploit would've been enough to convey pleasured shudders through his nervous system, generating unstable and discordant beats from his heart. Had he been awake, he would've experienced a moment very different to what he was used to with Elena. There was little to no lust or seduction. There was only the simplest of affections, yet somehow they were the most effectual. Damon was somewhat oblivious to the various ways love could be presented; it came with having a cold heart.

But it seemed that young Elena was the remedy for his ill-treating and rebellious ways. When around her, as established many times before, he wasn't the Damon Salvatore most people knew to date. He was the handsome, charming soldier he used to be, before transitioning into a monster - of course, not forgetting miniscule rebellious additions. He wouldn't be Damon without those.

Damon stirred amidst his placid siesta, but by then, Elena had departed. His heavy lids struggled for a moment before his pale-blue eyes greeted the feeble rays of light that streamed through a gap in the curtains. He rapidly blinked away the sudden shock the early daylight gave him and rolled onto his side, expecting his eyes to fall upon a dozing young woman. But they didn't. He saw nothing but rumpled sheets and his jacket, strewn casually across the satin. There was no slender figure, no flowing, brown hair. Just … an empty space.

With a frown, Damon hoisted himself up off the bed and grabbed the clock that sat on his bed-side table. **8:00am.** It wasn't even late enough to have been late for school. So what had made Elena want to rush off so hastily? Well, that's what he supposed she had done.

He glanced to his right, where she had been laying just moments ago. He could still smell her fresh aroma there, fluttering about his scent receptors teasingly. He flicked his tongue over his lips, finding that not only were they dry, but that an unusual taste loitered there. Familiar but … atypical.

Elena's lips, he concluded. He recognised the cherry-like flavour, most likely issued by lip balm. She must've kissed him, before retiring.

Damon traced a finger across his now moisturized bottom lip, gazing intently at the foot of the bed, until realising what he was doing. Mourning over the disappearance of his younger brother's girlfriend (regrettably) was no way to start the day. He got to his feet, stripping his torso of his grey shirt and swapping it for a new and clean one, in a particularly dark shade of khaki-green. He slipped it on, grabbed his jacket, and sauntered from the room, slinging the leather casually over his shoulder as he did so.

It was then that he remembered that auditions for parts in a play were being held today at the high school, in provision for an annual literature event. The idea of a 'literature event' lost Damon's interest straight away, but acting out an infamous Shakespeare play could be quite amusing.

So Damon wasted no time in departing the deserted boarding house and heading straight for the Mystic Falls High School. 

* * *

><p>Coward. Again that word echoed so profusely within Elena's mind and she'd no better success this time than the previous in regards to ordering it away. How could she be a coward if she simply didn't want to hurt Stefan? Stefan... The name and images of which now flooded the Gilbert girl's mind only caused her level of guilt to increase rapidly, as her head became a target for inward jibes and constant precognitions regarding Stefan's knowledge of her sordid affair with his elder brother. Elena chided herself at that - despite her heart's yearning, and defined disagreement... she couldn't ignore the facts. Elena and Damon's love was tainted, as blemished as the darkest desire one could even hope to possess. The fact was there, but her stubborn mind refused to acknowledge it as that. After all, her unnatural attraction to the said Salvatore was all but logical.<p>

Elena had grown up and as she matured, came to believe many things - but something of which Damon had taught her was perhaps one of the most valuable lessons one could possibly teach another living being; logic was flawed, but what the heart wants - the heart usually gets. However, neglecting each of their souls, at least for the time being seemed like the most sensible option. At least, until the inevitable option was brought fourth; the unavoidable option of course being that of choosing between the two Salvatore brothers. Thrusting the dreaded thought far away from conscious babble, as well as her front door open, Elena casually exchanged pleasantries (and not-so pleasantries also) with her mildly irritated aunt before the brunette made her way slowly up the staircase.

Without halting once, and determined to refrain from thinking of either Salvatore brother, Elena grabbed a towel from the airing cupboard before slipping into the bathroom. Locking the door swiftly, Elena stripped herself of all clothing, pausing only for a split second as she inhaled, her senses once against registering and further relishing in Damon's mesmerising scent; a scent of which, regrettably, was moments away from being removed from her now-naked form. With an un-suppressible sigh, Elena stepped into the shower and simply allowed the water to wash over her body and with chaste luck, cleanse her mind.

* * *

><p>"It's just the fact you didn't return my text; that's all. Call me an over-protective boyfriend, but I was worried," Stefan said, his brown brows dipping as a frown fell over his features, pulling his hip, red convertible into the car park.<p>

Elena's eyes drifted over to her boyfriend, her boyfriend of who for once, his eyes weren't focused upon his girlfriend of many months; but upon the building in front of them. The school. As Stefan had helpfully reminded her this morning, the committee were holding auditions for 'Romeo & Juliet' in honour of the upcoming literature day. Usually the said Salvatore would not at all been moved by this idea, but it had been Elena of who had convinced her vampire boyfriend to tag along with her. A heavy sigh passed her lips as she climbed out of the car and linked her fingers with a still-troubled Stefan.

"Stefan.." she started as they neared the school "I'm sorry that I worried you, I didn't mean to. I just didn't think," she admitted, sliding agilely through the threshold of the door Stefan had held open for them both; she looked toward him.

After several minutes of mental debate, Damon decided to take the car up to the school, rather than waste energy on a supernatural sprint. He started up the black Ferrari with a fluid twist of the keys and backed out of the driveway with apparent flair, before speeding off up the street.

It didn't take particularly long to approach the school's vast campus. Within ten minutes, he reached his destination and swung into parking spot with ease. But he waited a while until he clambered out of the gleaming vehicle. Something was stopping him; a pressing thought. It had been trying to worm its way through his barriers and into his alert mind ever since he left the boarding house. Damon supposed that, now, it had been successful, because he simply could not hold it back much longer.

Elena; sweet, beautiful, innocent, daring yet somewhat enigmatic Elena, why was it so difficult to not think about her?

Would he ever get by one day without her face invading his mind, polluting it with such an addictive substance? It wouldn't be such a bad thing had she been his to think about, but she wasn't.

As ascertained countless times in the past, Elena Gilbert was not his to touch, kiss or even think about. She belonged to Stefan, his less worthy, less dashing younger brother. As much as he hated it so, he could not alter fact.

Suddenly aware that the engine was still running, Damon turned the keys in the ignition, and the car simmered to a still. He adjusted the rear-view mirror to an applicable angle and made to get out of the settle vehicle. That was until he spotted a familiar couple making their way towards the main building. It was Stefan and Elena, both of which looked mildly troubled. Damon neither cared nor had the patience to listen in on what they were discussing, so instead glanced darkly at them through the mirror before he pushed open the door and climbed out of the car.

The door swung shut with a distinct snap and Damon's keys jangled as he casually swung them side-to-side from his index finger. He tried not to look at Stefan and Elena as he made his own way towards the main building, so averted his gaze from the now tenderly intertwined pair and settled it instead upon his boots.

The crunching of gravel led Stefan to believe that somebody was heading their way, and as he reluctantly pulled away from the kiss he shared with Elena and looked out towards the car park, his suspicions were verified. Damon was striding their way, clearly avoiding his eye, keys swinging from his finger. Stefan marked this as an opportunity, and immediately pulled Elena closer, catching her lips in a more passionate kiss than before, his fingers aimlessly trailing over the majority of her body. The way he kissed her demonstrated a sense of ownership and the way he touched her slender figure suggested authority and territory.

To Damon it would; at least, he hoped. But to Elena he wished she would see this as merely an exploit of love and affection – nothing differential to previous happenings between the dating couple.

Damon's footsteps were nearing closer, Stefan's ears informed him. Sight could not confirm this, however, as his eyes were shut against the intimate gesture he inflicted upon Elena.

But a voice confirmed Damon's presence; a low, displeased murmur that very nearly resembled a growl.

"Get a room, will you?" he muttered darkly.

He did not stop to generate conversation as Stefan slowly and reluctantly pulled away from Elena. Instead, he strode straight past, commencing with a low and melodic whistle until he disappeared into the school building, not once glancing over his shoulder at his younger brother and secret lover. It was then that he felt his heart drop; at least, it fell a few metres further than where it already was.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	15. Enjoy The Silence

**A/N: Huge thank you to our reviewers and subscribers! (And an honourable mention has to go out to 'spirited ghost' – your reviews are so awesome and we're so happy you're enjoying this story as much as you claim to. :)) This chapter was inspired by the song 'Enjoy the Silence – Depeche Mode' – it's a good listen, and I totally recommend it. (Especially for those searching for Damon's POV ^^) We're left on a slight cliff-hanger which will hopefully give you guys the inspiration to review for us on your thoughts concerning this chapter and what you think will/want to evolve. Peace out and don't forget to review! **

**Chapter 15: Enjoy The Silence.**

And although that one, distressful, yet determined realization still continued to plague the Gilbert girl's mind - she forced herself to concentrate upon the lips of which she was kissing and the person those lips belonged to. Stefan. Elena loved Stefan; from the bottom of her heart she knew that she loved him. For, how could she not? He was the most caring, compassionate, loyal and loving person, mortal or immortal that Elena had ever come across. And despite these facts standing true - Elena's unfaithful heart seemed to possess a mind of its own. Her head cautioned and it advised. A wise woman would heed its caution and obey its advice. But Elena was not wise - she could barely think straight when around the elder brother. Her heart yearned for his kiss, for his touch; the way her whole body shivered when he said her name.

And as ridiculous at it may have seemed the one thing of which made sure Elena remained sane was a firm, true belief. People of who suppress their desires do so because their desires are weak enough to be suppressed; and as wrong and as twisted as her secret sounded... Elena had to neglect and 'forget' Damon's and her time together. In reality, she had no idea how strong this 'imprint' the both of them were supposed to have was, and was willing to push it to its limit; after all, she belonged to Stefan Salvatore - not Damon. (Regrettably) Elena inwardly slapped herself at the small, irritating voice within her head. Her lips formed a slight pout upon feeling Stefan release his mouth's capture of her own, but before she could even begin to protest, the younger brother was once again kissing her. Kissing her, that was, with much more passion and eagerness than the prior kiss.

Undeniably, Elena couldn't help but deem the action as odd; Stefan was all up for displays of public affection, but this? This seemed forced somehow - as if he had a point to prove or a wager to win. Momentarily tossing these intruding and suspicious thoughts from her mind's conscious babbling - the brunette continued moving her lips with his own, allowing the occasional giggle to pass her lips as her arms locked around the green-eyed vampire's neck. All too caught up in this intense clinch with the youngest Salvatore brother, Elena's senses did not process the arrival of the other, elder and far more alluring Salvatore. Upon his low mutter, the brunette unlocked her arms immediately and broke her previously affectionate embrace. Her mouth fell open, forming a perfect 'o' shape, merely watching him stride away from her.

She swallowed back something seemingly choking her throat as a sudden rush of guilt slowly overwhelmed her being. Engrossed within her own now-melancholy emotions, Elena did not register the sudden smug attitude now emitting from Stefan; at least until he spoke, anyway. Elena's brown not-so-bambi-like eyes shot towards Stefan, narrowing as she stared intensely and menacingly toward him. And before she could attempt to get a hold over herself and ultimately analyse her words over before speaking, they rippled from her mouth in a low, but nevertheless hard hush.

"You knew he was staring, didn't you? You knew! Why the hell would you do that, Stefan? How could you? He's your brother for goodness sake!" her exasperated chide caused Stefan to blink a couple of times.

Turning with a light, but obvious huff, Elena ripped her hands from their fallen position at his shoulders and she began pacing away from him. Leaving a gob-smacked Stefan well and truly rebuked...

An indistinct frown flawed Damon's handsome features as he strained to overhear the on-going conversation between Stefan and Elena. He could make out every word clearly, but what he heard left him relatively confused. Elena had no problem with openly kissing Stefan, but not in front of him all of a sudden? It was like she felt guilty. Surely, that told her who she truly wanted? Unless he'd gotten it all wrong. And the way he was kissing her was so unlike him; Stefan was a romantic, not a man of tenure. It was almost as if he was trying to prove something to Damon, or remind him that Elena belonged to him. Did he know about last night, when Damon and Elena had fallen asleep in one another's arms? Something was telling Damon that he did … But he didn't want to think about it right now; at least, not too much. It was polluting to his mind, and if he were to stay true to Shakespeare, he needed a clear head.

Such a Stefan thing to think about commented a voice inside his head. He couldn't restrain his short laugh of agreement. He was so unlike his younger sibling that when little things he performed reminded him of Stefan, it was somewhat amusing.

Damon strode quickly into the school's main building, passed several frantic looking teenagers and avoided a way-too-cheerful greeting from a rather young looking girl. He honestly didn't know what to think of this honorary play. Perhaps it could be a laugh, but it could also transition into disaster. But being a typical risk-taker, Damon didn't hesitate to stroll straight into the school's hall – a large, spacious area with brilliant acoustics – which was scattered with chattering school students and various members of the Founder's Council. Upon arrival, Damon instantly spotted at least eight people he knew and the rest he recognised. Mechanically, he ambled towards Bonnie, who was in Caroline Forbes' company.

"Hello Bonnie," he greeted pleasantly and nonchalantly, allowing the faintest of smiles to flicker across his lips. "Looking quite debonair today."

He flashed a smirk that appeared brighter than the prior, but appeared to not receive and equally as kind response. He had to admit after what had occurred in a spare bedroom of the Boarding House the previous day, he expected no less from Bonnie than a disgusted look and a slice of her mind. Damon recoiled briefly upon the glare she directed at him, but his devious smile remained intact; as usual, it was formidable – a relentless Damon-trait.

"Don't expect me to converse with you so nicely, Damon," muttered Bonnie after advancing a few steps away from an occupied Caroline. "You're flaunting with your brother's girlfriend, who happens to be my best friend. I don't even think I can stand to look at you for much longer."

Damon mocked an expression of great offense and placed a hand to his chest, where his heart would be.

"Ouch, Bonnie. There's no need to get so pouty. Besides-" he leant in towards her, lowering his voice to a soft whisper, "-I'm sure Elena enjoyed every moment of it. You should've heard her screams. But I suppose you witnessed some physical evidence."

He reclined from the now quaking witch with a swift smile. But before the little Bennett witch could respond, a motherly tone interrupted their banter.

"Damon Salvatore!" called the shrill voice of Carol Lockwood. This welcoming gesture attracted the attention of Caroline, who spun to observe the scene incredulously.

"Damon?" she repeated disbelievingly, but nobody seemed to pay her much attention.

"Hello Carol," replied Damon charmingly, shaking hands with the mayor's wife. She appeared quite pleased to see him there.

"I'm so glad you came, this is going to be so exciting, isn't it?" She clapped her hands together in awe as she addressed the hall full of Mystic Falls residents.

Thankfully, after a polite pretence and a fluid departure, Damon was left alone to observe the cultural scene. It was only a matter of time before Stefan and Elena would walk straight through the doors he stood opposite, holding hands or possibly flaunting yet another passionate kiss. Damon rolled his eyes at the thought. He really didn't want to see that again.

Stefan simply stared after the now-retreating Gilbert as a frown captured his lips, matching several lines of confusion of which now carved into his forehead; what was Elena's problem? When had she begun to care when and where they kissed? More so, who they shared a passionate embrace in front of. Momentarily, Stefan searched his mind for any possible answers, refusing to views ones of which were scattered aimlessly, yet so obviously at a forbidden end of the spectrum of assumptions. Perhaps Elena had merely felt a sense of sympathy for his elder brother? For, Stefan had noticed, as had every person of who'd spent even the smallest amount of time around the trio, that Damon clearly had feelings for Elena that extended past the normal affection one should feel for their brother's girlfriend.

It would only be natural, given Elena's kind, compassionate nature that she would view Damon's interest with care and attempt to minimize any hurt in which would be inflicted upon him. But even if that statement was correct, was there really such need for the harsh tone in which she delivered her disapproval and disappointment in? Stefan thought not. Despite this fact, Stefan allowed a heavy sigh to pass his lips and started after Elena, he himself now feeling mildly guilty. Although, his guilt was not directed toward Damon or anything relating to the actions in which he and Elena had performed previously - it was toward his girlfriend for obviously causing her to feel uncomfortable with his plan of action.

"Elena!" he called, and after a second or two, he watched her long, brown hair sway and soon her face replaced her luxurious locks; he was at normal speaking distance now.

"Elena... I'm sorry; i didn't mean to.. Well, to make you feel uncomfortable," he paused, his fore finger raising her chin as he peered into her bambis "Forgive me?"

Elena's expression was torn as she deliberated in which pre-prepared line she had to present to him; should she relent and allow her features to soften, handing the younger brother the benefit of the doubt... Or should she hold steadfast to her gut feeling? And just as she was deciding upon the latter, the caring, affectionate gaze of Stefan's leaf-greens caught her attention, causing her heart to squeeze and Elena instantly changed her decision. A smile lit up her lips and she pulled him into an embrace; and embrace in which he returned.

"Of course I forgive you! Don't be ridiculous!" she beamed, lifting her face up to his and pecking him lightly.

It was silly to think that Stefan would've intentionally caused harm to Damon; granted, Stefan could occasionally allow his jealously and protective nature to overwhelm him, but she had never known him to be deliberately cruel. And upon that ounce of knowledge, Elena locked her fingers with Stefan and allowed him to lead her down the remaining length of the corridor and into the huge hall the stage was situated. Her eyes scanned the crowd of busily talking people and buzzing girls; although, her eyes only ran over the perimeter briefly. She hadn't wanted to come across him. Damon. Deciding to not want to 'make an entrance' as such - Elena steered Stefan toward the pile of ready-made scripts and gently leant herself toward her vampire boyfriend. Stefan looked down at her, smiling proudly before planting a soft kiss upon her head and humbly held her.

And there they were, looking as cosy as ever, smiling contently as if nothing else mattered in the world but just the two of them being together, touching in one way or another and sharing what love they had to give. Damon lowered his gaze to the floor as they strolled past him, apparently not appearing to perceive his presence (or were trying to conceal their knowledge of it). He tried to discount the faint ache in his chest at the image of the interlocked couple of meant-to-be lovers, but it was proving exceptionally difficult to disregard. Why had he allowed himself to get buried so deep within this excavation? His heart – often so caged, numb and obscured from reality – was causing him more pain than ever, as by each time he glanced at the beauty that was Elena, he dug himself a little deeper into the quarry he seemed unable to escape.

In a miscarried attempt to discard his poisonous ponders, Damon strode over to where the rest of the large group were huddled, along with the mayor's condescending wife. She seemed extravagantly overjoyed by what was going on within the midst of the hall, and appeared only more pleased when each young person hurried away with a script in their hands. Unwillingly, Damon scooped up his own booklet of stapled sheets and began to aimlessly flick through it, not processing any of the words printed upon the white paper of which he presumed he was supposed to be rehearsing. He didn't even know what part he was going to try for. Hopeless romantic Romeo or persistent antagonist Tybalt? Both characters seemed to well-associate with his own personality, though he would never admit it. He had always believed that, in everyone, there were traces of at least one of Shakespeare's characters, simply because they were so genuine and realistic and so very well compared to centuries of human beings.

Damon snuck a glance from over the top of his script, still pointlessly turning pages. His eyes fell on Stefan and Elena, whom were a few metres away, just as a mildly affectionate gesture was passed from male to female. He stifled a sigh and averted his dagger-like icy-blue stare from them, laying them once again upon the paper in his hands.

Bonnie scanned the hall having already decided on a few parts to try out for. She spotted several seniors she recognised from school and a few of the adults that often loitered around the Mystic Grill. But she took minute interest in the locals – instead, her eyes fell upon Stefan and Elena and then Damon not far away from them, looking relatively apathetic. Bonnie frowned heavily, comprehending the ridicule upon Damon's face and the entire inappropriateness of the scene.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Caroline, who was poised beside Bonnie, appearing concerned for the disapproving expression on Bonnie's face.

Bonnie shook her head dismissively and turned away from the infamous trio and in replacement took to skimming over her lines, once again.

"Oh, nothing," she replied with a sweet smile, trying as best she could to sound convincing. Honestly, she didn't think she sounded all that bad for one attempting to be nonchalant.

Caroline bought it, anyway. Then she sauntered off, blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders. But, obviously, Bonnie's statement had been a lie; she had been watching the two vampires and single human up by the stage, and could not help but feel a little bemused by Elena's irresponsible actions. Did she not understand what an imprint was? Did she honestly not listen to everything Bonnie had said yesterday at the boarding house? Clearly not.

Contentment was what Elena was within Stefan's strong, sure arms; because in all honesty, why wouldn't she be? Stefan was everything she'd ever wanted in a man, in a boyfriend - the qualities in which he held her numerous and far too many to name. He was her knight in shining armour on a disastrous day, (and always would be) just as he was the warm arms in which she could willingly curl up to on a cold winter's night. There was nothing of which Stefan didn't have that would logically deter her attention from his visage. But as she stood there, in the school hall with Stefan, tightly enclosed within the loving circle of his arms Elena found herself suddenly drowning. (Not physically, metaphorically, of course) Drowning that is within a fixed chain of events, a fixed life and path of which she was supposed to live.

Naturally, it would be any girl's dream to be where Elena was currently, wrapped closely, in doubtless comfort, to a man of who not only loved her irrevocably and unconditionally, but would give up his own life to save her if the circumstance arose. Who wouldn't want that? And when received, who wouldn't treasure it with everything she had? Elena risked a glance up at him now, swallowing back or breath or two; seeing that, thankfully, Stefan's eyes were averted elsewhere, listening to the late mayor's wife's orders. Elena had been happy with him, overly happy with him, euphoric was what she would feel at every moment they were together - every kiss, every touch was like magic... And despite her feelings for Stefan, strong ones at that - the imprint Damon and Elena had accidently created had caused chaos. At least in Elena's mind any way.

But knowing this, should she accept, or should she decline the emotions of which Damon had first unleashed within her and furthermore allowed to run wild..? And as if on cue, as though her thoughts had, due to the immortal and mortal's secret imprint travelled toward Damon in nothing but telepathy, she caught his eye. Unable to remain emotionless and unaffected by his intense, heavy stare - she swallowed hard. However, before Elena's brain recalled how to move her muscles, Stefan's querying tone broke her fixed gaze. Unthinkingly, and rather stupidly, Elena blinked twice, shooting her eyes up to greet his. He desired to know why exactly it disturbed Elena to kiss in front of his elder brother; so, acting upon pure impulse and perhaps with a degree of denial, meaning to be thrust Damon's way... Elena leant up onto her tip toes and grinned.

"It doesn't; I'll prove it," she whispered before capturing his lips in a hot, wild kiss.

Stefan, quite clearly bemused by Elena's sudden rash act of affection, but nevertheless, unable to reject Elena, or anything of which she coveted, Stefan's lips only too willingly obliged to her own's demands. His eyes snapped shut and the hold his arms had around her tightened, bringing her chest onto his own; their lips parted, tongues exploring one another's mouth before Stefan's hands began to roam all over her back, and finally resting upon her hips. Elena continued to kiss him for a selected amount of time - murmuring ' I love you's' - 'I love you's' of which Stefan gladly returned. Finally, what seemed like a true eternity, Elena pulled back, breathless and blushing from a much-too eager Stefan. Removing a hand from its locked position in his hair, Elena scooped up a spare script and leaving Stefan with a single peck and a short explanation, she sauntered away from him and out of the main hall. Love sucked.

Damon had reached the last page of his script and not one line remained imprinted upon his memory. He hadn't processed anything written on the paper in his hands, nor did he care in the slightest about it. There were much more pressing matters taking up the capacity of his mind at the current moment, which were seemingly impossible to shift. Everything was severely and overly perplexing – so much so that Damon couldn't flout the heavy load of oncoming questions that surged through his head; ones that, he knew, would be relatively difficult to find answers to. Too much was happening at once; he didn't know what to believe now. He supposed there was only one way to find out, but the notion of regaining knowledge was a little far-fetched at the present time, what with the target being a little too busy to take much notice of him. Of course, when in the presence of Stefan Salvatore, Elena Gilbert was treated alike nothing more than a queen.

Damon had been so sure that he was capable of living up to those standards of supposed royalty, but now he considered the idea of his ego being a little dishonest with him in the past. But there was nothing he could do. If only he had a time turner … Maybe he should've allowed her to remember that time in her bedroom, where he had poured his heart out to her and told her that he loved her …

Bonnie seemed unable to resist the temptations of glancing over at Stefan and Elena. They looked so comfortable and right, despite the fact that one had indeed wronged. Bonnie couldn't understand why Elena was being so fraudulent to Stefan. Surely, it wasn't that much of a quandary that she felt forced to lie to him? But then again, what did she know? It might well be. After all, the imprint was evidence as to how intimate Damon and Elena had really gotten when nobody was around.

Neither of them, however, knew of the dangers it would permit from then onwards - especially when Stefan was involved. If Elena was to persist with the constant swapping between the Salvatore brothers, then she would be trapped within this predicament for longer than wanted.

Bonnie's brown eyes flickered towards the stage again. Of course, she should've expected to see something as inappropriate as what was happening just then, but she also couldn't deny that the heat had been a bit of a surprise. Stefan and Elena were intertwined in a passionate knot, kissing in a way two lovers would. Bonnie frowned at the truly beautifully romantic image, before averting her eyes away. She settled them, instead, upon Damon, waiting to capture his attention.

And as if by magic, at the perfect instant, he looked up, prominent blue eyes meeting Bonnie's round brown ones.

Bonnie simply nodded in the direction of Stefan and Elena; it was a feeble attempt to get him to look at what was going on behind his back. Unless he already knew. Bonnie didn't really know why she was warning Damon anyway. She disliked him with heavy passion. It was Stefan that she wanted Elena to be with. Wasn't it?

Having finally discarded the mental debate commencing within his head, Damon snuck another look over the top of his script at Stefan and Elena as apparently instructed by Bonnie. He found that his eyes met not with an occupied couple but with the fantastically shimmering brown of Elena's eyes. They were so suddenly there that he found, for a few seconds at the least, that he couldn't look away. The stare that they shared contained a combination of varying feelings, including some that Damon couldn't really recognise.

But he had next to no time to decipher the many emotions that surged between both vampire and human, for the human had looked away abruptly, only to press her lips desirably against Stefan's. And the kiss that they generated was wildly and treacherously liable to happen that Damon was startled that he was actually surprised by what he saw. He strained his ears mechanically, picking up tiny murmurs of digressing committed words of love. Anger flitted through Damon at an unimaginable pace, causing him to clench his teeth to stop himself from shouting something out. His gaze darkened as he watched them. Why did he not look away? He was only torturing himself …

And then she was gone, script in hand, long brown hair fluttering at her waist. Elena had left Stefan alone to converse with others surrounding the stage, but where had she gone? Damon tossed his script quickly onto the table he was leant against, before striding across the hall, replicating Elena's path.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	16. I Should Go

**A/N: Hey there; firstly, thanks for your reviews – you're awesome. (Special mention to Chase, your frequent reviews are great. :]) And as you know, we always respond to our reader's comments; in all honesty – would Elena chase after Damon? She does, after all have Stefan. ;D This chapter brings forth a further insight into why Elena (and Damon) act the way they do. As always, we write, would you guys be kind enough to review? Chapter Inspired by 'I Should Go – Levi Kreis' Hearts! (: **

**Chapter Sixteen: I Should Go.**

Elena was completely aware in some ways, of the repercussions of her previous actions, but if someone were to judge her knowledge of such things by simply looking at her features, she would appear utterly unaware of the impact her actions had had upon those around her. However, for Elena, that most definitely was not the case. One particularly solid reason Elena had done what she did was because of him, Damon; to show, to proclaim even, to the arrogant vampire that she didn't need him. No matter how much her soul yearned to belong to his own, her heart longed to love him and her body craved just about everything he had to offer... For as long as she was able to suppress these seemingly impossible urges for the impeccable immortal, then she would. Elena Gilbert was a lot of things - but weak wasn't one of which she would be.

Although, in a sense, perhaps the notions in which she'd performed prior to exiting the hall could've been doomed as utter cowardice; she pondered this thought as she made her way down the hall, script in hand and her long, as her brunette hair swayed melodically behind her. In brutal honesty, Elena was scared - that much she knew. Her feelings for Damon frightened her; not so much for the fact that they were there, (Elena had admitted secretly to herself a long time ago that they did exist) but the intensity of which they had reached. The human had decided a long time ago that her greatest service would be to others and what she could do to make them happy; she loved Stefan. But in committing to and loving him, she was forced to sacrifice her new-found love for Damon also. She had argued with herself constantly over this conclusion, questioning herself over and over again but could discover no alternatives.

There would be no happy ending for both Damon and Elena; as a couple at least. There couldn't be. It would cause too much controversy... Too much hurt, on all sides; and how could Elena do that? Deep down within that black abyss Damon Salvatore once called his heart - the brunette knew he cared too. (Contradicting to popular belief) Just as much as Elena. And, at a stretch, maybe even more. She was at Alaric's History room now; holding onto the assumption that her aunt's boyfriend wouldn't mind too much if she were to use his classroom in order to rehearse her lines, Elena gripped the handle and turned it slowly. Finding it open, she agilely slipped through the door and shut it lightly behind her. She crossed the room and halted beside the teacher's desk and turned, facing the window.

Inhaling deeply, Elena turned her eyes to the stapled paper within her hands. It was then that she noticed a small, wet circle of which had damped the letter 'R' of 'Romeo' and a segment of the surrounding white paper. Her brows furrowed slightly as she pondered how it had gotten there. But after only a second or two of inner research, Elena froze, swallowed hard and this time, feeling a tear slide slowly, dauntingly down her cheek. Hastily, she flipped the page over and began studying the fresh lines. But no matter how hard she attempted to ignore the unsurpassable emotion, and how often she were to squint.. Eventually the tears won and her vision became lost in a blurred veil of moisture. What had she done?

Damon followed Elena until she reached a derelict classroom and made her way inside. He was careful to stay out of sight, just in case she decided to throw a fit or something else as crazy as current events (such as deliberately kissing her boyfriend to get to him; it had been so obvious in her expression when she'd done it). He waited just around the corner until the door had snapped shut behind her, before meandering forwards to take the brass handle in his own hand. He heaved a great sigh, debating with himself whether or not to go inside and talk to her, mainly to ask her why she'd disappeared so quickly that morning. He so badly wanted to converse with her, even if it was in a meaningless way. Though it had only been last night, it had felt like days since they'd been alone together. But he didn't want to spark anything dangerous either.

But what the hell. He needed to talk to her, and if he didn't do it now, then who knew when he'd get another chance?

The odds that she would be persistently smothered by introvert Stefan for the remaining hours of the day were relatively high. This dull fact seemed to grant Damon with a differential perspective and so, he opened the door, but as silently as he could possibly manage. He closed it with a soft click after he stepped inside. He didn't move from the door. He simply stood there, frowning heavily at the back of Elena Gilbert. He had so many questions to ask her but … where to start? Out of everything he desired to know, what was most significant? Who cares commented his far from diplomatic mind. Just ask whatever comes to your head first. Otherwise you're just going to be stood there for ages and getting nowhere. And so, reluctantly, that was what he did. The first question that sprung to mind – disregarding its importance – was what tumbled from his lips.

"Where were you this morning?" he said suddenly, breaking the suddenly uncomfortable silence that stretched between him and Elena. At least, it was unnerving for Damon. He was unsure whether, until his voice sounded out from the overwhelming noiseless atmosphere, she knew he was there at all.

Nonetheless, he stood in front of the door of which he had just entered through, with his hands buried within the pockets of his dark jeans. All he did was watch her, despite the fact that she was doing nothing but facing the large window by the desk. But she was mesmerizing nonetheless. It was just a shame that … she wasn't his to gaze at. And that thought always seemed to crush his heart.

And despite the fact that Elena was rapidly turning pages, the paper stretching relentlessly against her finger tips, whilst her brown orbs buzzed over each and every line, (even if her character wasn't involved within that scene) nothing seemed to process within her mind. For how could it? The words printed perfectly upon the page had all blurred into one huge blob of black - her script no doubt smudged to high heaven due to the seemingly endless, nevertheless silent tears she cried. Even taking into account the time her parents had died, those dismal months of despair and misery Elena was forced to endure - not a moment within those months had she felt the eternal pain in which she was feeling right now; never had she cried so profusely than she had done in these past few days. Her heart had been well and truly split in half (with the help of a knife-edge) and the blood of which seeped from the vicious tear just appeared to continue to drip.

From the knowledge of which Elena had gained previously from that of an imprint indicated it was supposed to be a wondrous thing; a bond in which should never be tampered with, dreaded to severe and a level of euphoric joy in which nothing else could possibly even begin to give to both parties. Most of all, the imprint was meant for two beings in which loved one another wholly, passionately, and irrationally. Ultimately - soul mates. But Stefan was Elena's soul mate, that much she knew. (Or thought she knew...) And if that was true, what on earth did that make her and Damon? It was then, that the shocking realization came to her; she blinked, her tears immediately halting as her irises widened, as if in an attempt to contain the sudden rush of information of which entered her mind. Damon and Elena were twin flames.

Two beings, mortal and immortal with identical souls; it was said that twin flames were typically known to be erratic, relentless and intense in intimacy and often caused one another unnecessary pain. (Despite that one another's pain caused the most discomfort upon the other.) Elena's mental voice chuckled at that, but it was a chuckle of which held no humor - merely irony. It was then the voice of him... Her fallen angel entered the once silent atmosphere; unthinkingly, Elena spun instantly, gasping at his immediate presence. How long had he been here; did he know what she had been thinking of? No, of course not - that would be ridiculous, would it not? Shaking that ridiculous presumption from her conscious thoughts, Elena set her mind to answering his question, her eyes stinging from the welled tears.

"I needed a shower..." she said, quietly, hesitantly before added in a slightly louder tone "And Jenna was worried."

Damon nodded slowly in response to Elena's explanation but still couldn't help but notice that there was something in Elena's voice; something that caused Damon's frown to intensify. It wasn't as bold and forthright as it usually was, but contained a slight waver, like it was cracking, much alike one under pressure. But the fault in her tone was explained as Damon peered at her more carefully; her eyes were rimmed with pools of tears, some of which had escaped their flesh beds and had taken to streaming down her olive cheeks at a rapid rate. All Damon could do was stand there and look at her in utter disbelief and bewilderment. Despite the sadness that tainted her beautiful face, she was still as breath-taking as ever.

Managing to conjure up some wit, Damon advanced several steps towards Elena, hands still within his pockets and expression still hesitant.

What had gotten her so worked up? Mere moments ago, she was smothering Stefan and appearing quite smug about it, but now? She was in floods of tears for a reason Damon hadn't yet comprehended.

"Elena?" he questioned soothingly, outstretching a hand to tentatively expunge the droplets of liquid that lingered on her complexion. "You're crying," he murmured, more to himself than to the distressed girl in front of him. His fingers lifted from her face and instead fell to lightly graze her arm.

It was times like these when Damon regretted everything brutto (he preferred the Italian pronunciation) he'd ever done to Elena, simply because he knew that the aftermath would sometimes be her tears. Abhorrence towards himself was all he felt after inflicting Elena with unpleasantness. He never wanted to hurt her. He loved her. How could he ever cause her pain?

But whenever he did … He still found it extremely difficult to apologize. It just wasn't something that came easy to Damon.

Witnessing such an innocent exquisiteness in such a state was a tear to the heart. But Damon didn't know what he could do to deter her from further misery. But maybe touching her in some way would make her realise that he was there, whenever and for whatever, seeing as it appeared she hadn't realised that just yet.

Now, if this situation had arose months ago, the Gilbert girl would've known exactly what to do; she wouldn't be crying (for a start), and being the golden girl of who received everything and anything she wanted - she would either relish in her newly evoked feelings for the elder brother, or merely thrust him away, rejecting him with ease. However, Elena had changed over these past few months, and meeting the two smart, handsome hunters, also known as the Salvatore brothers had caused Elena to view life differently; to treasure it, even. Dating Stefan she had learnt true love, care and affection - whereas with Damon, she'd learnt compassion, determination and how forbidden fancies could ultimately conjure together and produce something more. To evidently generate something so tainted, but doubtlessly irrevocable. She was in love with two vampire brothers - and the choice was hers. The choice had always been hers.

And despite this knowledge that in more ways than one Elena held the key component in order to make or break each one's heart... As Elena peered up into those beautiful, scorching blue-fire orbs, she found herself at a loss of words. She felt incredibly vulnerable and utterly self-conscious. Of course it was absurd for the brunette to feel that way, especially concerning the thoughts of which had just previously occupied her mind. But the immaculate immortal had always held that power, the power of which caused Elena to become speechless by the slightest murmur of words and as he touched her skin... Elena felt herself losing a grip on reality. A grip on why she was forsaking both Damon and herself. Why did she have to, why- She opened her mouth to speak, expecting a disarray of meaningful confessions to spill from her lips - but instead, the atmosphere was greeted with that of the opposite.

Her subconscious guard seemed to be staying steadfast. For once, thankfully. In a speed in which Elena had long-assumed she wasn't humanly possible of performing at, Elena raised her hand and instantly slapped the hand of which hovered at her face away. She flashed her brown orbs upward, fixing their position firmly onto his own, desperately trying to ignore the indescribable way they made her feel; his tentative touch sent shudders throughout her entire body and his eyes bored deep into her soul - even when he was simply comforting her. And it drove Elena insane. This was all too much. He was all too much; she couldn't cope with her feelings for him.

"If you touch me again, then I will scream!" and although her voice held the venom of a python and her words the sting of its bite - her mind, her soul was helplessly crying out for him, for all of him.

_Please don't.. Because I want you too much._

"Elena. What's wrong? "he tried again, but his response was a redundant slap of his hand.

This sudden drastic exploit was something Damon hadn't expected of Elena, and the mechanic rejection hurt him a little. He pulled his hand away, however, and simply looked at her, his gaze quizzical. He dared himself to reach out to her again, but a solemn warning tumbled from Elena's lips before he could. And Damon couldn't help but crack a devious smile upon these stern words.

"You better believe you'll scream," he murmured almost inaudibly whilst leaning in daringly close to her ear.

He fleetingly discarded his appearance of concern, replacing it instead with his more prominent demeanour. But, of course, what would a Salvatore be without his two sides? It was almost as if Damon had an angel perched atop one shoulder and a devil occupying the other.

A sudden thought unexpectedly billowed through Damon's mind, throwing him slightly off guard for several seconds. But … the uncanny thing was … was that it sounded nothing like his mental voice. It was … Elena's? And it echoed – like a repercussion. I think you've just had a revelation, he thought to himself. Could he read minds, or something? Or was his own head just messing with him?

"Oh, I see …" said Damon thoughtfully. "You want me too much?" He leant back slightly. "Do you remember last night when you whispered my name? And this morning, when you kissed me before you left?" As if suddenly digressing, Damon traced a finger ever-so-lightly across Elena's bottom lip, before he touched it to his own. "You must remember the tomb, too? And that time, up in my room … I believe you were tending to my wounds and we may have got a little carried away."

He enunciated those last two words with a low drawl. Re-telling what had happened between the two of them during the past week was having a strange effect on him – he just hoped that the same went for Elena. Every time he thought about what they had done and what it may have cost them, it sent tremors coursing through him at a velocity he was unable to comprehend. But nonetheless, it was effecting. It that was happening to him, then it had to happen to Elena. Out of the two of them, she was the one with the most humanity, after all.

"Elena, listen to me," Damon said suddenly, leaning back and grasping her dainty hands in his own.

He bore his hypnotic stare into hers, feeling the hypnotic properties backfire. He gave her fingers a squeeze, before lying one of her palms across his chest where his heart was hidden and one against the side of his face. He held them there. His expression was saddened again; he looked somewhat hurt.

"There's something going on between us and I know you're finding it hard to ignore it. Because so am I. What I don't understand is why you're trying to ignore it! We have something, Elena, even you've said it. So stop trying to resist. Stop denying us, please, because – because it hurts."

Elena felt exposed and unguarded; although her words had been firm and her violent action had been controlled and precise, she couldn't ignore the truth of the matter; she was defenceless - for if Damon was to lean forward now and capture her pouted lips, between the perfect curves of his own then Elena would find herself once again at slave to her own heart. Her attempts at resisting him and what she most definitely felt for the younger brother were appearing either non-existent or fairly futile; just a single example of this was, whenever the moment arose that the pair of forbidden lovers found themselves alone, even with others inhabiting the building - they would fall into the lapse of their desire for one another. It was alarming, simply because of the surreal affect the human and vampire seemed to inflict upon each other.

But her pondering over contrasting thoughts was cut short at Damon's sudden advancing upon her frame; her eyes still narrowed as he leant his lips closer to her ear; and despite the brave front in which she portrayed inside she was shaking. His smooth, careful lips grazed lightly against the skin at her ear and Elena suppressed an outward shudder, but was unable to reject and inward identical movement. The brunette knew exactly what he was implying; she just hoped Damon didn't realize how she longed for his implications to become a reality... Sucking in a huge breath of air, Elena composed her features, her eyes no longer narrowed, but her face still holding a rather emotionless complexion. But it was as Damon's own expression changed that Elena began to inwardly question what had provoked the sudden sway in his attitude; was someone walking down the corridor, or worse, had someone seen them?

What if that someone had've been Stefan? Millions of possibilities flooded through Elena's mind, clouding her every thoughts and polluting her mind; when finally, after what seemed as though it had been a lifetime later, Damon spoke. But at the arrival of his words, Elena felt her heart skip a beat and her entire expression fully freeze over. How could he KNOW that..? Perplexion and wonderment were the emotions in which had soon taken liberty in adopting and soon was forced to become a witness to strangely vulnerable vampire's babbling. But as the immortal's heartfelt rant continued to charge onward, the clogs in Elena's mind began to turn and once more the human felt the all-too clear urge begin to arise. And this time it was not the urge to pounce upon the flawless figure, but to take him into her arms and to never let go; familiar moisture accumulated at the rims of her brown orbs and Elena choked back a gust of air.

"I..." she started, but fell silent at touch of his skin against her own; so desperate and only confirming how unnervingly determined this immortal was.

Her heart squeezed, but the squeeze was not one of joy by any means. Every muse of which entered her mind penetrated each melancholy echo of Damon's words and only further provoked her pathetically buried feelings for him. This was too hard. And allowing her hands to move at Damon's will, she let them be guided to wherever Damon pleased. She gulped, audibly, upon feeling the place of which Damon's dead, un beating heart was positioned; but poignantly, it was the same heart in which caused Elena to feel the unconditional way she did about him.

"Damon. Damon please," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper "Please don't make me do this..."

Without her mind's consent, Elena turned her head a degree, thus causing her lips to brush against Damon's palm; she puckered them and planted two sweet kisses upon the skin there. The tingling sensation meeting her lips was remarkable - causing droplets of liquid to finally breech the barrier of their fleshy beds. Her eyes drifted sideward, catching Damon's eye and then suddenly wishing she hadn't. The hand of which had been moulded to Damon's face was burning; she so badly wanted to pull him closer and end this awful segregation. So desperately, just wanted one last kiss.

"We shouldn't..." and although she said this, her actions contradicted as the Gilbert girl found herself leaning toward him; a chaste kiss planted upon his cheek and she inhaled, pulling back an inch.

Tasting his breath on her tongue on willed Elena onward as her fingers delicately gripped at the material of his shirt and her eyes fluttered to a close; she pressed her lips hesitantly to his own. And like two long-lost puzzle pieces, they fitted together with precision. Perfect.

The chaste kiss that Elena planted gently upon Damon's cheek somewhat redeemed her previous exploit. The feeling of her soft lips seemed to cause him to forget the scenario that took place back in the hall. Right now, there was no Stefan; it was just him and Elena – how it was supposed to be. It felt like too long since she had been this close to him, close enough for him to fully experience the beauty of her aroma. As usual, she smelt like flowers in full bloom amidst a warm spring. Sometimes, it was hinted with something citrus-like, but it wasn't always there. Like now – he couldn't detect it.

Damon kept a firm hold on both of Elena's hands, but by now had loosened them from their place upon his chest and face. He slowly intertwined his fingers with hers, before cautiously turning his head to face her. His lips met hers, but it was only the vaguest of contact. They lingered there for a moment, as if contemplating the matter.

Damon could taste Elena's breath as their lips lightly brushed – it sent his head whirring.

"Just because we shouldn't, doesn't mean we can't," he told her in a murmur. He leant back an inch. Was she trembling? "It's ok," he said softly, reassuringly. "Just – trust me."

He cleared the ominous gap between them with a slight dip of his head, pushing his lips tenderly against Elena's. It felt so strange to be in this position again, but so right too. Damon felt his lips take control as they moulded more eagerly against Elena's as if suffering withdrawal ordeals, whilst his mind meandered up forbidden paths and closed roads and towards various other places it had never been before. But it was interesting, exciting and alluring. So he didn't try to stop it. He let it carry on wandering; exploring hidden places he would take credit for discovering.

Damon's hand drifted towards Elena's cheek, where it settled comfortably. His fingers caressed the spectacularly smooth skin in her face, before gradually sneaking amidst the tangles of her brown hair.

Damon was unsure whether or not Elena would willingly respond, but he just hoped that she would. After all, she wanted it this right? Just as much as he did.

Elena wasn't entirely sure the exact reason of which had resulted in the lightest brush of her lips to his - but whatever it was, Elena couldn't deny its power. The way the surface of Damon's lips, (even in the most insignificant type of contact) felt when it touched her own was as if a fire had ignited within her being. She'd never felt that way with Stefan; and if the brunette was honest then she seriously doubted whether she ever actually would. But, even coming to this firm conclusion, Elena couldn't fully allow herself to commit to the kiss she had insinuated between the two one-time lovers. She suddenly felt nervous, as if she'd just embarked on a disdainful crusade of deceit and lies. The hand of which remained at his chest, directly above his heart trembled, as did her lips; her eyes were shut now, unable to look up toward the man of who she'd just inflicted the small, but affectionate act upon.

And as he spoke in that perfect, soothing and composed tone Elena couldn't help but allow herself to be swayed toward believing the now tender-speaking immortal. She liked it when Damon was like this; compassionate and reassuring; it was as if for one, single moment Elena could fool herself into thinking she could receive her fairy-tale ending along with her handsome prince. (The kind of prince of who wore black-tinted armour, anyway) And unable to neglect her feelings for the elder Salvatore, and undeniably futile in rejecting his advances... Elena kissed him back, hesitantly at first, but as Elena allowed her mind to delve more into her forbidden fortress of hidden feelings, their kiss gradually evolved from that of charmingly elegant, to eager and passionate. It was those three, seemingly irrelevant words that had altered Elena's mind set; just - trust me.

And she did, Elena trusted him with everything she had, and everything she would ever have worth giving; she strongly believed he would do anything for her - anything to make her happy. What sort of a female would she be if she could deny a man like that? Because it was true, to Elena he was not a monster, a ravenous creature of the night in which basked in darkness. That was not Damon. No. That was not her Damon... Her lips now parted considerably and one hand roaming within his rich locks and the other smoothing over his toned chest, an un-deter able, ultimately un-suppressible thought overwhelmed her being, forcing the brunette to break away from their lip's fiery osculate.

"I.. Want you," and without waiting for a response from his being, Elena's lips plunged, and once more, she fell helplessly into the inevitable abyss of amour.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	17. Accidental Infidelity

**A/N: Firstly, thank you so much readers and reviewers! Sorry about the late update, guys, but when we finish chapter 21 we'll be updating much quicker. :) This chapter is filled with a lot of DE and a dangerously close encounter with Stefan. Let us know what you think as well as suggestions/ideas for future chapters. Peace out! **

**Chapter 17: Accidental Infidelity. **

It felt so exact to have Elena this way again, despite how hesitant and uneasy she seemed. But the important factor was that she wasn't pulling away from him. She was thinking about it as she lightly brushed her lips against his in response, clearly deciding whether to kiss him or not. He allowed her to explore for a moment, but it didn't take particularly long for her to land on a choice. She kissed him back, but softly, until apparently deepening herself in the moment, losing herself as the kiss gradually intensified. Damon's hand clasped fistfuls of Elena's hair and he ran it through his fingers adoringly, savoring every feeling of it, as well as her lips. He waited too long to share another moment like this with Elena, even though it had only been a matter of hours. But that was exactly it. He couldn't bear even a few hours without her. Did she know of her effect on him at all?

The next few words that fell clumsily from Elena's soft lips were god-sent in Damon's opinion, but confirming all the same. She wanted him. And god had he known it all along. He had just wanted her to prove it, to show him that she really did want him. After the event in the bedroom that forced him to compare her to Katherine had thrown him off balance for a while, but now … The matter had been redeemed and once again Damon felt as if he really was wanted by Elena – in the way he wanted her to want him.

"Then have me," he whispered against her parted lips, in between kisses.

His eyes fluttered closed against the stream of desire that coursed through their interlinked forms. Damon leant back a moment to rake his eyes over the fine structure of Elena's face, before hastily closing the clap between them once more.

He cupped the back of her neck with his hand whilst the other gripped at her waist. He pulled her closer, deepening the shared affection by parting her lips wider with his intervening tongue. He began to kiss her with an energy he forgot he had, running his hands over the curves of her cloth and denim-clad body urgently. He wanted her. He needed her. What could he possibly do to really show her that? She'd given him her trust – by responding to him she had granted him it – but it needed more than that. What was possibly out there that over-ruled an eternal promise, a physical commitment and trust that could show Elena how much he truly loved her and how much he really needed her?

It was as if Damon knew every single one of her weak spots - the way his hands grasped at her hair, the fierce, yet tentative way in which his strong digits threaded through it and further clasped more fistfuls of it; the fire igniting within her being was something of which only he could cause to transpire... She groaned into his mouth, catching his lower lip between her teeth and biting at the flesh there - she knew how much that small movement drove Damon crazy when they were intimately swapping saliva this way. The hand of which was knotted in Damon's own raven locks mirrored the actions his own game performed in her brunette strands as she grabbed harder, forcing his mouth further closer to her own.

"D-Damon.." she breathed, but all other attempted words were inaudible as she continued their joint osculate.

Her tongue slid agilely across the perimeter of his lips, begging for entrance before slipping into it, her slippery intruder tasting every trace of him, this only luring her furthermore along the path of lascivious lust that Damon only-too willingly led her down. All thoughts of denial and rejection merely slipping from the human's mind as her fingers untangled from his hair and hooked with her opposite hand around his neck (script forgotten); her chest pressed against his own, the thrill of their kiss and the moment encapsulating her. And quite suddenly, her tingling tips, pounding heart and raging human hormones all became too much to handle. Snapping her eyes immediately open, eyes of which now burned with passion and desire, bore into his as her hands palmed onto his chest.

Within no time Elena had thrust Damon against that of Alaric's blackboard; blinded by the heavy haze of lust enveloping her, Elena curled her right leg around his hip, friction once again erupting between the two of their centers. This action caused Elena to yelp out loud, evidently urging her onward; anchoring her hands on each side of his shoulders and settling them in the dip there, Elena hooked her left leg onto Damon's opposite side, hoisting herself upward. Unable to suppress her now-unattainable need for him, the brunette grinded herself across his core, her hands once again making their way into his hair as their tongue's battle progressed.

"You.. You're.. God, you are everything to me!" escaped an exasperated whisper as it slipped rather involuntarily from her mouth.

Damon's breath quickened as the passion intensified. Elena's responsive groans to his disobedient kiss seemed to have upped his tempo, sending adrenaline and lust coursing through his veins. He felt a sharp pain at his lip, but it was a pleasurable pain; he liked it when Elena let loose her animalistic side and used her teeth whenever possible. The taste of her tongue was tantalizing, and each connection it made with his own exploring muscle provoked him into pulling her closer and feeling every part of her that his hands could reach in a ravenous demeanor. This provocative girl was everything he wanted, and right now he wasn't going to let anything stop him from having her.

Damon ran his hands hungrily over every curve and crevice of Elena's well-kept body, his fingers grazing places such as her hips, inner arms and waist and slowly creeping towards the place between her thighs.

His fingers tingled from contact, but he drew them over her denim-clad centre nonetheless, before grasping her thigh roughly.

"Elena …" Damon rasped into Elena's mouth. He could taste her ragged breath on his tongue, and he savoured its sweetness. He drew his lips across her jaw line, planting a trail of hot kisses upon her skin with the aid of his tongue. He moved to capture his lips with his own once more, but found that he was being propelled backwards by the force of Elena's palms pressed to his chest. Within a moment, his back collided with a sturdy surface, but he didn't glance over his shoulder to see what it was. He remained possessed and under Elena's spell, who had now mounted his hips. He tore the script from her grasp and tossed it onto the floor, and then hooked his fingers beneath her knees to support her weight, before kissing his way from the base of her neck to her lips again, where their tongues continued to interlace.

A gasp fluttered from Damon's lips as Elena lightly and desperately ground herself against him. He jolted in return, adrenaline still pumping. He artistically twisted their positions, spinning at vampire speed so that Elena was the one pressed against what he realised now was a blackboard. He pinned her there with his chest, his fingers running up and down her sides, before he lifted her away from the board and seated her atop a desk – Alaric's desk – where his animalistic behaviour commenced.

As if two halves of one whole - indeed like a twin of one eternally burning flame Damon's body moved complimentary with hers. His every touch, no matter neither how light, nor how intense caused her to shudder, shudder with the whole emphasis of the word. The way his games shaped so expert idly over every single crevice and soothed along every curve had Elena yelping for more - begging the immaculate immortal to never cease his tentative, yet emotion energizing treatment of her. Even if Damon wasn't such a generous lover, (which he most certainly was) the brunette was sure every kiss, every mere brush would be as thrilling as he had anticipated it to be; perhaps furthermore. Ironically upon that thought, Damon appeared to be willingly confirming that fact as by what seemed to be impulse, Damon grinded his hips immediately against her.

The friction once more emitting from their unfortunately-clothed centres was something of indescribable, as a frenzy of fiery feeling erupted the huge accumulated volcano of lust, which had been bubbling with great progression since the second their lips met mere minutes ago. But Elena hadn't time to react as near enough the moment Elena had finally controlled the covetous convulse of which rippled through her entire body, she found herself harshly forced against the blackboard; the same blackboard moments before Elena had dominated Damon against. Although in regards to complaining, the Gilbert did nothing of the sort. all words forgotten, (or at least words that met any sort of logic) simply evaporated from her mind as she once more, much like in the tomb, allowed herself to become a slave to her inner most desire. A slave to him.

She leant herself into him, her hands prying themselves from his shoulder and hooking around his neck, supporting herself slightly higher, despite the fact Damon wouldn't have allowed her to fall. But just as the brunette unlocked a single hand from the other in order to strip the immortal rogue's chest from its fabricated prison, Elena felt herself being flung from her previous position and planted firmly upon Alaric's desk; whipping an arm behind her, Elena cleared the desk of its contents and leant back a little, her legs coiling tighter, feeling him against her core fully now. Due to her lips' constant engagement with his own, the mortal found herself short of breath, and although this knowledge didn't deter her from their current intimacy, Elena broke their ravenous kiss and threaded a single hand through his dark locks.

She guided his face down to her neck as she desperately attempted to gain her regular breathing pattern.

"Damn it Damon, I... I think I need you," she gasped, blinking wildly.

Damon had not known what would have come of the time spent in the tomb with Elena. When amidst her company during their time of imprisonment, Damon had not planned to feed on her blood, nor had he planned on connecting with her in such a way two lovers would. He had also never expected to commit to a promise; one that he meant, nonetheless. And now, what had happened down there in the vampire prison had led onto a string of messy events involving both Salvatore brothers and Elena altogether, little did the youngest brother know. Damon assumed that Stefan had no idea of what was occurring right then in Alaric Saltzman's uninhabited classroom, let alone between he and Elena in general. And for now, despite desperate desires to make Elena his own, he wanted to keep it that way. But there was no interval for concern as vampire and human commenced with their merciless ravishing.

Both seemed too caught up in the heated moment to worry about whom exactly was headed down their corridor just then.

The kiss continued until Elena had wrapped her fingers in Damon's dark hair and had pulled breathlessly away from his dominating pout. He allowed her to lead him to the base of her neck and, as if instructed, began to create a venomous path of passionate kisses from there to her shoulder. As usual, her skin was impeccably smooth, and Damon relished in its perfection. Usually, a will to pierce the flesh with his sharp canines would bubble within him, but he had no desire to taste her blood. He didn't want her that way.

Damon fixed both palms upon Elena's thighs and leant further towards her arched figure. He was barely aware of the panted words that emerged from Elena's lips, as all his senses seemed to be clogged by an unmovable cloud of lust and yearning.

All he gathered from her helpless sentence was that she said his name, and she possessed an emotion of need. The resonance of his name on her tongue egged him on, and the notion of her needing him so badly caused his fangs to protrude in a licentious demeanour. He grazed her shoulder blade with his reinstated teeth, before moving to capture her jaw line between his hungry lips. He readjusted his hands – one remaining atop her thigh and the other cupping the side of her neck – and pressed himself further against Elena's slender form.

Damon was barely aware of the footfalls that sounded from a few classrooms away. Nor did he care. Even if it were Stefan, he cared not if someone were to walk in and witness what was happening here.

Stefan could never, and undoubtedly would never know; at least not if Elena had anything to do with the unveiling of her sordid secret. And despite the knowledge of Stefan's presence only a hall and a wall away, Elena could resist Damon's allure - his mind as well as his body. He unstoppably seduced her in every possibly way, forcing the young Gilbert to succumb to her soul's most unattainable and doubtlessly irrevocable urges. Damon and Elena's sensual sessions, when pondered on, even for the briefest amounts of time, the realization remained the same. He had changed her. Never would Elena ever even dream of committing such an act of transgression toward Stefan. That was, unless the third party happened to be that of Damon Salvatore... Damon had the irritating, yet unconditional ability to defy all rules and terms.

He was handsome, confident, and reckless; the immortal rogue was indeed a wild card; a mysterious, misunderstood hunter of who the mortal couldn't help but allow herself to be utterly mesmerized by. She wanted his world; she craved his carefree facade and wayward ways as much as she coveted him as a whole. However, would Elena admit to the ultimate hold this... God-like beautiful creature had upon her? No. That much was obvious. Just as Stefan would so often muse to her: '(she) was as stubborn as (she) was radiant.' And if Elena's mind and frame hadn't already been so profusely occupied, then Elena would've passed an inward chuckle at that recollection. Although, the sudden memory seemed to be that of a cursed one as the second the thought began to disperse from her mind's muse - she heard footsteps.

And despite not being certain of how she was certain - she was sure of whom the faint foot falls belonged to. Her brown orbs flicked open instantly, her entire body freezing for a split second as her heart skipped a rather significant beat.

"Stefan!" she gasped; but seemingly in spite of herself, her gasp held no real voice to it; Damon's taunting, teasing kisses were too great a distraction.

A single hand weaved further into his rich, raven locks, grasping him firmly as a channel of moans passed her lips, her disobedient hips continuously grinding noticeably against his own. Finally, her mouth enabled a string of whispered words to escape its barrier.

"D-Damon.. We.. We can't. W-We need to.. to sttopp," she breathed, half moaning as she did so.

Elena was right; Stefan was on his way towards the very classroom where she and Damon were trading long-concealed cravings. Damon strained his ears to detect who the heavy footfalls belonged to and, much to his great dismay; it was indeed his younger brother. The sudden awareness of this unfortunate fact triggered something inside Damon – panic, maybe? Ha, of course not – and he knew he had to stop teasing Elena for both their sakes. But he didn't want to. After all these years of defying Stefan, why should he stop doing so now? Damon was one who went to great lengths to get what he wanted, and he wanted Elena. Why should something as small as she's not your girlfriend stop him from having her?

Under the impression that Stefan was no more than two classrooms away, presumably searching for his girlfriend, Damon paused in the creation of hungry kisses across Elena's white neck to listen, but found himself distracted by the constant thumping of Elena's heart.

He glanced towards the door, then back down at her. A devious smirk weaved across his lips.

"Maybe we should give him a show," he suggested, an impish glint in his eyes.

He leant down again, resuming his position exceptionally close to her body and began to kiss his way along her jaw line. The pace was a lot slower than before but, Damon knew, it would startle something inside his breathless victim. Damon's hand crept its way from the middle of her thigh to her abdomen. Slowly and tauntingly, it slid beneath her shirt. His fingers tingled from contact with her skin.

"I know how bad you want me," he whispered seductively, lifting his lips so that they touched her ear. "What's the harm in letting Stefan know that too?"

He smiled against her cheek, before recommencing his elongated teasing. His lips found hers and he kissed her; slowly, yet eagerly, wanting to prolong the desire that encircled them.

The formidable frenzy of which Damon had evoked within Elena's core was evolving, and vastly; her veins coursed with a potent mix of danger and lust as her mind (as well as her body) continued to plunge into the depths of her own erotic desires. If there was one thing is which Damon had stayed true to in regards to his reputation, it was his talent in teasing as well as ultimately pleasuring any woman of his choice; for once, Elena didn't appear to be an exception to the rule. However, seemingly in every other element of Damon's personality, around Elena, the Damon of who he allowed to be seen by the surrounding world was not the one he brought forth to her; not the one she'd fallen for... Nevertheless, Damon's ravenous, aggressive amour was not something foreign to Elena, or something she would dismiss. She liked it when he was rough with her. She liked it a lot.

In fact, it was something of which Stefan and Elena had never explored together; and although Elena had yet to bring the sensual suggestion forth, she felt far from obligated to. Besides, if Stefan and Damon were to perform similar acts of pleasure upon the Gilbert girl she would slip into the routine of comparing them both. And despite the various steamy sessions she had encountered already with the elder brother, even she felt as though that would be a step too far. It would drive her insane. (Much like the feeling of which Damon was currently inflicting upon her fragile frame) Speaking of the said Salvatore, her words hadn't seem to affect him in the way she'd hoped they would; Damon's lips did cease their plaguing of her neck, but only to capture her own in one, hot, wet, tongue-tangoing kiss.

She groaned audibly into his mouth, her fingers entangling themselves into his hair tighter as she momentarily forgot their current situation.

"St-Stefan can't know.. He can never," she panted, and although the words had fallen carelessly from the human's lips, she secretly vowed the statement to herself; Stefan would never know; not now and not ever "And you.. Need to control your urges."

Damon was aware that he was the one in control within this situation, and he most certainly liked it that way. His countless attempts at pleasuring the young Gilbert were deeming successful, but they appeared not to erase her memory of all things Stefan. It seemed that she still feared that he would find out about the two of them and possibly do something barbaric out of anger and rage. Though Stefan often came across as placid and lenient, he also had a history of profound bloodlust that Damon would not forget. As dull and monotonous as he was, Stefan had the ability to cause some damage – at least when on human blood. But the fact that Elena and Damon were both partaking in ways that Stefan had always feared, Damon supposed that it was an excuse to get agro, considering it was his brother and his girlfriend. An unlikely pair.

By now, Damon was informed of his brother's footfalls gaining volume, but still continued to dishevel Elena's appearance.

Between her legs, he leant in further, almost pinning her to Alaric's desk. He heightened the momentum of their passionate kiss and proudly took responsibility for Elena's pleasure-driven moan and the tightening of her grip on his hair. He wondered if Stefan's hearing was as alert as his was - then they'd have some explaining to do – but figured that it wasn't, considering he had nothing to be suspicious about. Right? He had no clue of what was going on between Damon and Elena …

With that latter murmur, Elena thrust the vampire aback, her legs dropping their enveloping of his hips and lolling against the desk, just in time for the click of Alaric's classroom door.

Lips tingling from heavy contact with Elena's skin and fingers numb from sensual activity across the feminine planes of Elena's stomach, Damon felt himself propel backwards, away from Elena and away from his desire. He raked his eyes over her suddenly nonchalant figure, a smirk complimenting his handsome features, before moving to settle upon the classroom door which had just swung open.

Damon ran a hand through his disarray locks, trying to look as casual as possible, before greeting the newcomer that emerged from the doorway.

"Man, you've got to stop doing that," muttered Damon under his breath. However, he then turned his head to face his brother, a pleasant smile making itself known upon his handsome features. "Hello, brother."

Stefan's leaf-green stare fluttered from vampire to human, as a frown furrowed his brow.

"What's going on?" he asked curiously, clearly troubled by the appearance of Damon and Elena in a classroom. Alone.

It was then, as Stefan distinctly examined the scene before him, that Damon realised, much to his amusement that his hand was still resting on Elena's thigh. He didn't move it, however. He wondered if Stefan would notice this. Also, a certain discomfort was amidst his trousers. He certainly hoped Stefan wouldn't notice that.

He tugged his shirt down and he looked straight ahead, trying his best not to draw much attention to himself.

"We're rehearsing," Damon explained innocently, gesturing to Elena's script on the floor. "Elena's a very good Juliet. It's a shame she doesn't have a Romeo to compliment that." He smiled swiftly at Stefan, who cocked at eyebrow. "So I decided to help her out."

Stefan nodded slowly. It wasn't clear as to whether he'd bought that lie or not. He glanced to Elena's discarded script. "Why is it on the floor?" he questioned, throwing them both a quizzical look.

"Well, there was … frustration. Shakespeare is difficult to comprehend sometimes. Elena, here, was getting quite irritated, which resulted in things being thrown."

Damon shrugged. It was convincing enough. But unfortunately for the passionate pair, Stefan's expression didn't reflect that. Not at all.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


	18. Safer to Hate Her

**A/N: This chapter is so dreadfully late, but since we've only written up to chapter 21 we're trying to make the content last until we've actually fabricated extra chapters. . Any who, once again, a conclusive chapter of the events of the previous; as always, read, review and enjoy. :3**

**Chapter 18: Safer to Hate Her. **

Elena's first priority was that of unraveling her body from Damon's; despite the provocative way in which Damon had presented himself in front of Elena - she was forced to reluctantly decline his well-intentioned offer. She wanted so profusely to bask in all that was Damon and the pleasure that she would doubtlessly receive from the elder brother, but the time frame is which the two of them had been given wasn't gracious whatsoever. Their steamy session evidently had come to a halt as Elena had gathered all of the inner strength she could muster and finally thrust the sinister Salvatore away from her being. Without the feel of his own against it, her centre felt unnervingly bare and doubtlessly moist; moist because of him; upon that equally imperative as it was irritating realization, Elena raised her right leg and curled it over her left one - trying to draw attention away from her once-parted legs.

After that small scenario had been dealt with, (or rather, dealt with as much as was currently possible) Elena focused the majority of her attention upon regaining a regular breathing pattern. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, her eyes flickering upwards as she scooted herself slightly closer to the edge of the desk. The last thing Elena wanted was for Stefan to gain any sort of knowledge, (no matter how remote) of the moments prior to his interrupting arrival. The human's eyes flickered upward, catching sight of Damon and the attempted care-free facade of which he'd recently built before floating further away from the impeccable immortal and landing her eyes upon a mildly annoyed, but obviously suspicious Stefan. She gulped, but soon regretted the guilty impulsive response.

Despite being certain the decibel level of which Elena's moans had been set to being considerably too low for Stefan to have noticed, (if his supernatural hearing hadn't come into play) Elena couldn't ignore the twisting, turning spanner in her gut, wrenching her insecurities, provoking them until Elena's heart, once more began beating hard. She couldn't do this again. Damon and Elena's sordid secret had to end. It must. For Stefan's sake, for Damon's sanity and his already scarred heart, and lastly - for Elena's health. If the mortal and immortal were to engage into such sexual activities as they had previously, coupled with their secret sneaking, the girl would become exhausted. (Literally, in both body and mind) Stefan and Elena had never engaged in such witty banter - or teasing touches. It was odd; but oddly pleasurable.

Elena's inner muses were instantly severed upon Stefan's sudden sentences; Elena swallowed, merely watching the two brother's fire sentences at each other. She stole a glance at Damon - as handsome as he was, Stefan wasn't fooled. He was a lot of things, but an idiot was not one of them. And although Elena's brown orbs had only met Damon's face for a single second, it was a single second too long, as Stefan directed a question toward the now-bewildered Gilbert girl. The question regarded the queriable presence of his hand at her thigh. Feeling instantly self-conscious and disdainful toward herself, Elena's eyes shot down to her thigh; perplexed as to why she hadn't recollection of his hand becoming fixed there. She slapped it away, her gaze piercing into Damon's flawless face as she spoke.

"Damon! What do you think you're doing?" She snapped, her eyes portraying a perfect sense of disgust; a perfect lie "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

In response to the sudden sting that shot through Damon's hand, he yanked it away from its place upon Elena's thigh and wrung it in dismay.

"My bad," he said, with an innocent smile. "Maybe my hand would be someplace else had the cock blocker not intervened," he added in a whisper in Elena's ear.

Despite the diminutive mark left as evidence of Elena's sudden strike, Damon found himself quite amazed at how convincing her tone of voice was, given current circumstances. He watched Elena as she hopped off the desk and bent down to retrieve the script he'd torn from her grasp just moments previously.

The brunette bent and ducked down, her chest scraping itself against Damon's already-hard core, (out of Stefan's eye line, of course) as she fumbled for a few seconds longer than needed for her recently discarded script. Finally reunited with the item once more, and leaving Damon with one final not-so-innocent brush... Elena hopped easily off of the desk and sauntered toward Stefan. She leant up and pecked his cheek before returning to her former position.

He looked up to say something to Stefan, regarding his apparent witness of Damon's inappropriate gesture, but faint friction at his already troubled centre caused words to lodge in his throat and evidently fail him. He disguised the odd choking sound with a hearty cough, before taking half a step away from Elena, just to be safe.

"You have nothing to worry about; we were just rehearsing." Elena's eyes drifted toward Damon, her orbs informing him of her potent desire to be by his side before she averted them, adopting a new emotion and kissing Stefan again, this time, one he returned "Don't be too long..." and with that, whipped her brown hair hastily and exited the classroom.

However, unless instinct was mistaking him for once in his life, he was sure Elena had done that deliberately. And he would so get her back for it later. For now, it seemed, he was forced to watch her turn her back on what could've been an amazing occurrence and head back to the school hall. Of course, a reassurance to Stefan and a kiss didn't go amiss before she departed. Damon felt his stomach churn as he was forced to watch them kiss, but remained ignorant towards the blatant sign of jealousy. Why was he jealous of just one tiny kiss? He doubted that even Stefan could say he'd almost had Elena on a classroom desk. Damon, on the other hand, could – he remained proud of that enigmatic fact. He also took note of the look of evident longing Elena directed at him, and couldn't hold back the smirk that crept its way across his lips.

But by the time Elena had left the room, taking everything worth living for with her, the smirk had vanished, leaving Damon standing there looking quite straight-faced and convincing. Or at least he hoped.

"Well," sighed Damon, breaking the silence that suddenly stretched between both brothers. "I suppose I'd better get back too-"

He strode forwards, making to slip past Stefan, but found that he was being stopped from doing so. Exhaling irritably, Damon looked down to witness a hand firmly pressed against his chest.

"Do you mind?" he questioned bitterly, looking from Stefan to his hand and back again, cocking an eyebrow.

Stefan said nothing in response to this. Instead, he stood in Damon's way, removing his obstructive limb also.

"What was really going on in here, Damon?" he questioned with the air of one who knew he was right in thinking that Damon was covering something up.

Stefan wasn't taking 'nothing' for an answer, and so he gestured for Damon to hurry up in his explanation. Damon, however, had no intention of interpolating the truth – at least, not entirely. This was the perfect opportunity to elongate Stefan's suspicions and ultimately get to him. Though he had silently pledged not to speak a word of what was going on between he and Elena, there was no harm in making Stefan think there was something going on. Even though there was, but that wasn't the point. Stefan would just presume Damon was milking it to get on his nerves. It was how their brotherly relationship had always been.

Upon Damon's silence, Stefan grew agitated. He sighed impatiently, before rounding on Damon again.

"I'm not an idiot, Damon. Just to refresh your memory, Elena's with me. It will not be like it was with Katherine."

A scornful laugh escaped Damon's lips. The subject of Katherine always managed to prod at his weak spot, but he concealed the fact that this had mildly affected him.

"You have nothing to worry about then, brother. In all aspects, Elena is not at all Katherine. I can assure you it won't be the same."

"I mean it, Damon-"

"Yes, I'm sure you do," Damon interrupted, before stepping forwards and grasping the door's handle. "Now if you don't mind, please move."

And with that, he left, muttering 'cock blocker' under his breath as he did so.

A lucky escape. That was what most people would've called Elena's rather swift and seemingly choreographed exit from Alaric's classroom. But in all honesty, to the brunette it had felt more like an evacuation that an actual chosen lease of action; despite knowing within her mind that what Damon and herself were engaging in together was wrong, and that if they hadn't been disturbed when they had been then... Well, the mortal and immortal would've no doubt repeated the lascivious acts in which both parties had willingly performed in their imprisonment within the tomb. Her mind was satisfied, at least for the time being - although, Elena's body completely contradicted that statement; her physical being was anything but satisfied. The mere recollecting thoughts of Damon, perching her so provocatively against and on top of Alaric's desk, had her coveting.

And as a wise passage she'd once read stated - to covet was never a positive emotion. Still heavily lust-driven, Elena continued her path down the school corridor; due to Damon's persistent grinding as well as the teasing touch of his hand to her core, Elena's thighs were hot and tingling as desire prolonged it's coarse through her veins. She was an actress; she had to be. For, the scene she'd fabricated along with Damon hadn't evolved from practise or experience. The thought of being forced to do such a thing again was highly unnerving. There was a part of Elena, (granted, it was minor) that longed to go all out and confess the entirety of her sordid sin to Stefan and compose herself for the wrath in which the younger Salvatore would unleash.

She hadn't wanted to be another Katherine - she'd vowed to herself on many an occasion that she wouldn't allow herself to be. However, that consequence appeared unavoidable now. Finally arriving at the female toilets, Elena palmed her hands upon the wood and shoved the door open before slipping into the room. Upon entering the secluded room, the brunette motioned toward the sinks and bent her frame; her fingers sprawled themselves over the rim of the basin and her head ducked. Her mind refused to register thoughts of Damon, Stefan or anything regarding any supernatural creature and concentrated on her breathing. After a minute or two of calmly inhaling and exhaling, her hand reached for the tap and turned. She watched the transparent liquid filter from the nozzle. Without hesitation, Elena cupped her hands together, gathering a small pool of water and then splashed the said water over her face. She needed to cool down. Profusely.

When she was sure she would be able to make eye contact with the immaculate immortal without feeling compelled to evoke hidden desires, Elena ceased the running liquid and grabbed several hand towels; she dabbed the fabric across her face and wiped her hands upon her slightly-sweaty jeans. After a quick re-apply of mascara and fresh layer of baby pink lip gloss, Elena hastily exited the bathroom. Hoping she wouldn't 'accidently' meet with Damon on the way, she increased the speed of her pacing and made her way easily further down the corridor and into the main hall. And much to her dismay, the moment in which she entered, (more or less) every set of eyes snapped toward her. Feeling suddenly nervous - she blushed heavily. Stefan motioned over to Elena as Carol silenced all whispers.

"Elena! I thought I saw you come here," she trailed off, eyeing Elena's bare hands "Ah, but you don't seem to have a script.."

The human's humming-bird heart jolted as her eyes immediately began scrutinizing her vacant palms; a feeling of utter stupidity overwhelmed her being. She must've left the script in the bathroom. But just as Elena opened her mouth in order to respond, Carol had already maneuvered over to her and handed a spare script to the Gilbert. Elena thanked her quietly as Stefan remained still by her side.

"No worries dear," she paused before smiling wider "In fact... in fact, why don't you be our first Juliet candidate!"

Elena attempted to argue, but the late mayor's wife was immovable. Eventually, she gave in. Inhaling deeply, Carol bellowed a second statement; one of which Elena dreaded instantly.

"Now, for a Romeo! Where for art thou, Romeo?"

Damon let loose a puff of air once finally out of Stefan's earshot. He hoped that his trademark cynical demeanour would get him out of the sticky situation he had very nearly found himself submerged in. It was highly possible that Stefan would get overly suspicious, but then again, he was always one to doubt himself. Damon just hoped that that was what would happen. Stefan would digress from the possibilities of Damon and Elena, simply because he thought it was just insane. Fingers crossed.

A distinct discomfort was still making itself known below his abdomen. Damon looked down and almost growled in annoyance. He couldn't go back to the school hall looking like that! It was packed full of people (high school students, to be precise) who wouldn't hesitate to publicly point out something like that. Instead of heading straight through the double doors vertical to him, Damon swerved to his left and punched open the door to the men's room.

He motioned over to one of barely any mirrors and checked his reflection. As usual, he considered himself to be quite handsome-looking, and intensified this knowledge by running a hand through his disarray locks. Nothing about him looked overly suspicious. Not now anyway. Hastily, Damon twisted the warm tap and let lukewarm water run over his hands, of which were still mildly tingling from their contact with Elena's bare skin. He then dried them on a paper towel, tossed it into a nearby bin, and then exited the room, permitting the door to swing shut behind him. For a moment, he stood there, observing the corridor and listening out for any approaching humans. There appeared to be none. So he made his way back around the corner and headed, this time, for the double doors ahead. They lead straight into the school hall, which was bustling with a large amount of Mystic Falls' youth.

However, they all seemed to be silent, watching a scene that seemed to be playing out just to Damon's right.

"Ah, Mr Salvatore!" came the startlingly shrill tone of Carol Lockwood. Damon glanced at the tall, middle-aged woman whom he had greeted earlier, and smiled charmingly as she hurriedly approached. "Care to try out Romeo?"

"I'd be happy to do it, Mrs Lockwood," said another voice, one from directly in front of him.

Damon looked ahead and spotted Stefan, that usual innocent smile plastered upon his lips. Stefan made to stride towards Elena, but Carol was vigorously shaking her head.

"No, no, Stefan, not you! I was talking about your brother!" Carol laughed before dodging the youngest Salvatore and practically skipped in Damon's direction.

Stefan spun around on his heel, looking incredulously over at Damon. Damon, on the other hand, waved.

A sigh of relief passed through her system at the sound of Carol's suggestion; of course acting alongside Stefan as Romeo and Juliet would be a perfect solution to her torn-between-two-Salvatores problem. But of course, fate (for Elena at least) was never as generous. Despite Stefan's interpretation of Carol's words, she easily corrected the younger brother and made her way past Stefan and toward... Elena spun slightly, her eyes unable to keep themselves from widening at the mere sight of the impeccable immortal. She inhaled sharply, holding her gaze steady upon watching Damon gleefully accept Carol's offer. (Or rather Carol's demand.) Allowing her eyes to narrow ever-so-slightly, Elena heard Stefan grumble his obvious disapproval. And for once, Elena actually agreed with him. However, she was pretty certain his discomfort didn't spring from the origin hers did.

"Of course I would," Damon said softly.

He watched Carol almost shriek with happiness as she sauntered away, before agilely sliding past Stefan.

"Let me show you how it's really done, brother," he murmured deviously.

"Damon, dear, here's a script!" called Carol, holding up a wad of paper from nearby the stage. But Damon shook his head. He knew most of the play by heart, and it wouldn't hurt to improvise.

"No need. I know Shakespeare like the back of my hand."

Of course, acting romantically opposite Damon would not be particularly difficult; ironically, that was precisely the reason of which Elena wanted to profusely protest against it. Acting upon impulse, she made known her insecurities regarding Carol's seemingly immovable decision.

"Uhm, Carol, I don't think that.." Elena started, but was cut short as Carol waved a hand in her direction; Elena's mouth snapped shut as she listened to the Mayor's wife.

"Now now Elena, don't be ridiculous; we're all adults here," she insisted, all but ushering Elena into the only-too-willing arms of Damon Salvatore, and his now, no doubt smug demeanour.

And with that he took Elena's arm and elegantly led her towards the stage.

Sighing in complete defeat, Elena nodded once, turning to Stefan and squeezing his hand lightly; but as she leant up to offer him a peck of reassurance, she was soon lured aware by the other brother.

Coming to the conclusion that causing a commotion over whether or not Elena and Damon read a paragraph or two of meaningless lines off of a Shakespearean work of art wasn't worth the hassle, Elena refrained from objecting further and merely let him lead her toward and eventually up the stairs to the stage. She attempted to ignore the tingle of his touch to her bare flesh. But it was hard; images of their passionate clinch only minutes prior still plagued her visage. Elena wanted, no, craved him - that was an undeniable fact. Finally arriving at their desired destination, the brunette took a small, hesitant step backwards, her eyes self-consciously flickering toward the gathering crowd of civilians. Iron hands twisted and knotted inside of her stomach as she swallowed, prying her eyes away from the accumulating audience.

Distracting herself and the nerves of which now controlled her every move, she glanced down to the printed paper within her grasp. Not allowing herself any further thought, Elena tossed the script onto the ground and closed her eyes; she would improvise. As her eyes opened, the human appeared composed as she sauntered toward the elder brother, an expression of unreadable emotion as she did so. Without even the tiniest fraction of deliberation, the brunette reached forward, taking each of his hands in her own, interlacing their fingers and finally raising her brown bambi's to his mesmerizing, fathomless gaze. She spoke in a whisper.

"Why, Romeo?" she breathed, lifting their joint hands and continuing, louder this time "Why must you torture me this way with your sweet words and make-believe promises. We're forbidden; we can never be."

As usual, Damon retained a confident posture. Despite being faced with the one thing he wanted more than anything, whilst also being observed by the majority of the town's youth, Damon remained buoyant and currently showed no intention of altering that. He stood near-centre of the stage, arms by his sides with an expectant expression upon his face. He watched Elena casually, a hint of a devious smirk still faintly visible. Even under the artificial light that enlightened the large hall, Elena looked remarkable. Flowing, waist-length, chocolate-brown hair and deep brown eyes, she was a perfect picture; a work of art. Damon suddenly realised that he was staring, and he rapidly blinked, returning to reality just in time to witness Elena toss her script aside. For a moment, he watched, bemused by her somewhat brave action. He was quite sure Elena didn't know Shakespeare as well as he did, and was she really courageous enough to improvise?

He supposed he'd have to wait and see. If he was perfect honest, he was looking forward to what she came up with.

Elena was now advancing on him, her expression forcefully composed. She then spoke, her voice barely a whisper, whilst reaching out to grasp his hands in her own. Her touch jolted his stomach, and his breath fleetingly escaped him. However, he was remotely impressed with Elena's improvisational skills. He stole a glance at the anticipating audience. Every face looked about ready to crack into the widest smile, for each young person seemed barely able to contain their excitement for the performance ahead. He then caught a glimpse of Stefan, standing at the edge of the crowd, his arms crossed and his countenance blasé. The simple fact that this was blatantly getting to Stefan seemed to stimulate Damon. His notorious smirk reappeared and he turned back to Elena.

"My promises are far from make-believe, my love, as is my love for you. We can be if we so wish it. Why do you allow such burdens to stand in obstruction?"

Damon gripped her hands firmly, squeezing them affectionately as he gently drew her closer. As he spoke, he dipped his head towards her. He made sure his voice was slightly hushed, but could be heard by the entire audience also. It was the beauty of being an actor. It was then that Damon realised something. Elena wasn't improvising. She was adopting a real-life situation and moulding it into make-believe fiction. This certain situation was one he was also familiar with.

**Steph+Jackie x3**


End file.
